Novel Starts
by elizabeth.dante
Summary: AU: Professor Alexander Rodgers was never one for the lime light. Though he moonlights as famed novelist, Richard Castle, his true pride lies in his work teaching at NYU. All this comes to a standstill however when he finds his worlds colliding with his alter ego called out as a person of interest in a murder investigation.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Professor Alexander Rodgers was furiously typing away on his laptop at the University library. Silly coed whispers surrounded him as he worked hard to meet his latest deadline but pay attention to them he did not. If he didn't get this rough draft into his publisher by the end of tonight, he could only hope there would be hell to pay. Because the wrath of Gina Cowell, boy, does he not want to think about that. The last time he exceeded his Monday deadline—well let's just say, he still has nightmares.

"Hi Professor!"

"How are you doing Professor Rodgers?"

"Looking good today, Professor R.!"

_Damn, these students. Yes yes, hi hi_. Rodgers politely waved back without lifting his eyes from the screen. He loved his students, dearly, but when there's a deadline approaching, he can't afford to think of them as anything more than white noise. Maybe he shouldn't have chosen to work somewhere quite so public and distracting—his tiny corner office would've been much quieter—but he has a class to teach in, gosh, twenty minutes, and the library was the closest place to his lecture hall that he could think of. Normally, he loved wandering the halls of the old library. It had a history about it, rich in creamy colors, and the shelves were built directly into the walls. The desks it housed and the one he sat working on, are beautiful—dark Oak wood, showing off small scrapes and scratches from years of wear and tear. But resilient they stand and the overall ambiance of the library is simply inspiring.

Sadly, it doesn't look like the library is encouraging him to write like the muse he's always known it to be. For months now, he's been struggling with meeting this specific deadline. Normally, the words just come to him. But lately, Derrick Storm, his star protagonist … he's just become so predictable. Writing Storm used to be fun, but now, it just feels like another job on top of his already pressing career as a university professor. Rodgers gave out a sigh as he quickly struck out the final words to his manuscript:

"_She stood there in stunned disbelief as the light in his eyes dimmed. He reached out for her and she took his hand, squeezing it for the very last time. She felt her heart stop a beat, and in that moment, she knew he was gone. Darkness fell across the face of the city, and across her face as well. 'Good,' she thought, as the wind gathered up her hair. 'No one will see my tears_.'"

Derrick Storm is dead. The end. He just killed off his lead protagonist in his best selling series of novels. There should be a sense of regret or even accomplishment but, crap, he doesn't have the time to process that. He only has five minutes to spare before he has to go teach an introductory English 101 course to about 300 pimply-faced freshmen and snoozing seniors. At least these kids are easier to charm than his more mature, and smaller, comparative literature seminar. They would definitely give him grief if he walked in a little late.

So he quickly packed up his laptop and the scattered pieces of paper on the desk before him and stuffed it all into his shoulder bag. Swiping the empty coffee cup on the edge of the table, he skirted the end and almost ran to the double doors leading outside to his lecture hall across the open lawn. As he pushed the doors open, he was too preoccupied from throwing his coffee cup in the bin by the doors to realize he had effectively jogged into an unfortunately unsuspecting individual. With his larger bulk and frame, the person he ran into was immediately knocked back; regrettably for him, said person has the reflexes of a cat and chose to cling to him as s/he fell backwards.

With the laws of physics working against him—and this is why he's an English enthusiast, not science—he felt himself tip forward. Steadying his balance like a dancer dipping his partner, he instinctively gripped the waist and neck of the victim of his casualty and rested said victim upon his knee. His reward for such a show of dance competition worthy skills? A pair of brilliant green-brown eyes stared back at him.

_Gorgeous_. That was all he could think of. He works with words day in and day out, but that was the only adjective that came to mind.

He doesn't know how long he leaned there with the woman in his arms, for now that he got a good look at her, he could tell the luckless soul he ran into was a woman. And a beautiful one at that. Golden brown curly locks flowed behind her and from his grip on her neck, he could tell she had the softest hair he ever touched. The beeping on his watch sadly brought him back to reality, as it just announced to him his class had started without him.

"Crap! My students!"

"Thanks, Romeo, but as I've been trying to tell, you can let go of me now."

"What?"

"Didn't you hear me? Honestly, that bump couldn't have rattled you as much as it did me. I asked if you can let me go so I can get my things," the mysterious woman impetuously remarked back.

"Wha? I'm sorry…" Rodgers promptly stood her upright and released her from his hold.

"Thank you," she replied simply and immediately stooped down to retrieve her fallen items.

Feeling partially—okay, maybe entirely—at fault, Rodgers bent down to help her gather her things. He may have physically let her go of her but she still had a hold on him. He couldn't stop looking at the curiosity before him as he blindly collected the various folders and books in front of him. She was dressed simply—in a buttoned up black peacoat that didn't quite meet her knees, to emphasize the long legs currently adorned with gray slacks. All that completed by a pair of sturdy yet very sexy heels. _Who was this woman?_

"Hey be careful with that!"

In his absent-minded admiration of the enigma before him, he carelessly dragged one of the fallen books towards him, scraping it against the harsh concrete floor. Looking down to see what precious item he grabbed to make this woman exclaim out so suddenly, he found himself confronted by a Richard Castle novel—_Flowers for Your Grave_, one of his earlier works.

Before Rodgers really had any time for a reaction, the book and consequently the other folders he picked up, were out of his hands and back in the belongings of its rightful owner. Seeing her stand, he quickly got up and brushed the quiet dirt from his jeans.

"Uhh," he attempted, but she cut him off with her pointed look before he could think of an introduction.

"Thank you for your assistance but didn't you say something about your students?"

"Oh my god, my students. I'm late for my class!" Panic would be an understatement for what graced Rodger's face as he realized—damn, his watch can't be right, it must've broken during their tussle—he's ten minutes late for his class! "I'm so sorry, I have to run!"

As elegantly as he could, he hobbled down the short steps and sprinted the short distance to his lecture hall across the way. He could hear the snickering behind him as he ran, shoulder bag bopping along, but the only thought on his mind now was his students. His moonlighting career as the bestselling novelist, Richard Castle, is enough to pay the bills but he quite likes his day job as a professor. He very much would like to not be fired from it for playing hooky from class, flirting with a stranger.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: To those of you who read this before I updated the title, please note that this was originally titled "In Another Life." It was brought to my attention that there have been two recent works with similiar titles so to avoid the confusion, I decided to change mine to, now, "Novel Starts." Thank you everyone for your review, follows, and favorites; I'll try not to disappoint you. And for those who have just hopped on for the ride, strap yourselves in and enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

After apologizing to his students and teaching assistants, he glossed over a few terms before rushing into the core of the lecture. Once he really started, it was like a switch had been turned in him. All his thoughts and worries momentarily fleeted from his mind as he focused on his lecture. English literature was something he was passionate about and 50 minutes with his students every other day was hardly enough time to say anything. He wished he could have more earnest conversations with his students but for an introductory class, well, let's just say he should be grateful they're even awake to listen to him.

Before he knew it, what was left of his time with his students were up and he found himself back to where he was an hour ago—the entrance/exit of his university library. _Could she? No… she wouldn't still be in the library_. Without the distraction of his class, Alexander Rodgers found his mind inexplicably drawn back to the encounter he had with the strange woman carrying his novel.

Sure he has seen his novels all around campus before and it was no surprise to run into someone holding his novel in their possession (though he's never quite so literally run into such a possibility). Richard Castle has become a phenomenon in the murder mystery world, to his astonishment, and the fact that no one quite knows who the famous man is makes him even more popular. Richard Castle is the ultimate mystery in his macabre novels.

It's not that he purposely wanted to remain anonymous. When he started his novels, it was just a hobby he started for fun. As a professor in comparative literature, he's read enough novels to realize which archetypes work and which do not. On a whim, he decided to jot down a plot that kept replaying in his head and before he was even consciously aware of it, he had submitted the draft to a small publishing group under the pseudonym, Richard Castle.

Next thing he knew, Richard Castle was gaining international attention and people all around the world started asking, who is Richard Castle? He never included a photo to be published with his novels and the most he wrote for the bio section was, "In a tidal wave of mystery, passion stands there next to me."

Many have postulated that he is as young as one of his novice undergraduate students while others would argue he's as old as some of his superior colleagues with tenure and bifocals. Some even go as far to suggest that Richard Castle is actually a woman, using a male name to get more recognition. None however have been able to guess that Richard Castle is simply a New York University professor, teaching his diverse students on the importance of the classics but also to retaining some artistic integrity with their many liberties.

At the end of the day however, despite his gaining popularity, he was still a professor first and foremost and right now, this professor has been standing in front of the NYU library for ten minutes too long—not conspicuously though, mind you. Rodgers has been leaning against one of the large stone columns supporting the wide porch of the library, staring at those double doors, almost willing either himself to walk in or the mysterious woman who's been haunting his thoughts to walk out.

Rodgers glanced down at his watch again. _3:11pm_. It's been a little over an hour since he was last here. What should he do? If he did walk in there and she was there, what would he say? Would he sit down next to her? How awkward would that be? "Oh hi, remember me? We ran into each other earlier, literally."

Shaking his head disapprovingly, as if the rattle would scatter these useless thoughts of his, Rodgers puckered up his courage and walked through the door. _If I see her then I'll decide what to do next then; no point in getting flustered up for nothing_.

And sadly, he realized with a pang of regret after he fully entered the building, that nothing it was. Even though he scanned the room twice upon entering the main floor, the woman he ran into earlier was nowhere to be seen. The double doors he entered through opens up to rows upon rows of those beautiful oak wood tables, but each one was occupied by some co-ed either studying or goofing around on the interwebs.

Dejectedly, Rodgers slumped to the nearest vacant table and spread out his work. Since he was back at the library, he might as well get in some productivity and double check his manuscript before he goes home. And with that, he took out his laptop and diligently worked to block out his surroundings and zone into his writing mode. So intent was he on his work, he failed to notice the woman who gracefully descended the side stairs that led up to the second level of library reserves. It was all for the best anyways, as she did not notice the man who had run into her and returned to the "scene of the crime." She only came to the library in an effort to get some peace and quiet as she worked on her latest case. As she had gotten as far as she could in the past hour or so, it was time to call it quits for the day. She descended her steps with her focus only on the double doors, briefly thinking she should be more careful this time around. That was the extent of her reflection however, towards the man who sat only paces from where she was exiting.

Both continued on their individual trajectories for the rest of that day. The woman moving on to finish out her errands while Rodgers, having stayed at the library for a few more hours, polished off his manuscript and sent it into his publishers. He exited the library near 6pm and rushed on home to prepare dinner, more or less forgetting about his (missed) encounter. With the manuscript no longer weighing on his mind, Rodgers's only plan for the night was to relax and prepare for the oncoming weeks of hell he was sure to face given the ending he wrote out for his, now final, manuscript.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Hi Honey; I'm homeeee!"

"Ew, please, Dad. Don't ever say that to me again," replied the redhead with a scrunched up face in disgust. Sitting behind the kitchen counter, sat Alexis Rodgers, astutely doing her homework as she waited for her father to come home before starting their dinner preparations.

"Sorry, pumpkin. How was school today? Did you start your week off well?" Rodgers laughingly responded as his daughter got up to make room for him to deposit his shoulder bag on the counter.

"It was okay. But hey Dad, did you know one of my friends started reading your novels? It's so weird to hear them gush about you as if you're some celebrity … like Jason Bateman!"

"Ahahah, I'm sorry to hear that?" Rodgers couldn't help but be surprised by his daughter sometimes. She continued to explain to him how her friends believe him to be a secret agent writing these novels discreetly because the murders he shares are classified knowledge, but he's only nodding along. He used to wonder about how his novel's popularity would affect his daughter, but he's discovered that she is a resilient child and she doesn't mind that he seems to have this secret life. If anything, she embraces it and keeps him in check when it looks like he might be taking it too far in his head. For a girl of only 14, she is incredibly wise and mature.

"… just you wait till Grams hears about this. I don't know how she puts up with you when her friends speculate about you."

_And speak of the devil_… Not a second after Alexis mentioned that did Martha Rodgers step into the kitchen from her bedroom upstairs.

"Why, good evening Mother. Nice of you to join us," Rodgers smartly greeted. He doesn't mean to sound so flippant with his mother, but he enjoys teasing her. And after what happened to her this past year with the last guy she was dating leaving with all her money, he can't help but try to instill some more light and silliness into her day.

"Oh the prodigal son has returned. What's for dinner kiddo?" Martha joked back.

"Pasta?" Alexis suggested, but not without looking back to her father first, to see if he was okay with her interjection.

"Sounds lovely. You wanna go put your books and stuff in your room while I start the preparations?"

"Thanks Dad! I'll be back down in a sec to help you with dinner."

As Alexis scampered off, Rodgers began to take various items out of his fridge to begin their simple little family meal. Rolling up his sleeves, he started washing the tomatoes and boiling the water for the pasta noodles while his mother sat there, idly nursing the glass of wine she somehow procured without his noticing. It was a very companionable silence—moments like these are when he's glad, as far as the world is concerned, he is only a professor with nothing more to worry about than grading papers. He shudders to think how his life could be dramatically different if he were in the limelight as a celebrity author.

Soon Alexis returned downstairs and with her help, the meal was accomplished in half the time. As they settled down on the dining table near the kitchen, silly banter passed on between all three family members and it was very relaxing, until the muffled ring of a cell phone halted their conversations.

"Sorry about that," Rodgers apologized, "It must be my publisher. I just turned in my final manuscript draft today though, so I can't imagine what she'd want."

He promptly got up and strode to the shoulder bag he left still on his kitchen counter. Out of respect to their family time, he reached in his bag and ended the call without picking it up. Not a moment too soon after that however, the phone started ringing again.

"It's okay, Dad, we get it. You can pick it up. I'm sure Gina can't wait to yell your ear off for whatever new ridiculous plot you came up with," Alexis understandingly encouraged.

"Hey, I resent that, oh daughter of mine," he teased back before he excused himself to his study, taking his phone and shoulder bag with him. He just barely closed the door and raised the phone to his ear before Gina was already speaking quite loudly on the other end.

"Alexander Rodgers, what did you do?!" Gina Cowell half screamed into the phone.

It took Rodgers a moment to collect himself before he could pinpoint maybe what exactly it was he did wrong this time—_Derrick Storm_. That's right; he just killed off his best-selling protagonist.

"I'm sorry, I got bored?" He attempted to explain, as he settled into the couch by his desk—might as well get comfortable; he could tell this was going to be a long and tiring conversation.

"Bored?! You call killing someone, BOREDOM?!"

"Why are you getting all shrill? I was getting tired of Storm; there wasn't anything I had left to say about his character."

"So you're justifying murder with writer's block?"

"Well yeah?" Rodgers replied back uncertainly. He doesn't understand why his publisher is taking this so seriously. "I don't understand; why are you so concerned about this? So I killed off Derrick Storm. What's the big deal? Storm isn't the golden goose. I am. I didn't even think you'd get to reading it that fast."

"Derrick Storm?! You think I care about Derrick Storm? Alex, I just had the police calling me asking about Richard Castle because he's a person of interest in a recent murder case."

Rodgers let the phone fall to his lap as those words continued to ring around inside his head. He's a _person of interest_ in a recent _murder_ case?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Alex? Alex, can you hear me?"

Rodgers slowly picked up the phone from his lap. Person of interest? Murder? What does he, or rather Richard Castle, have anything to do with this? It doesn't make any sense!

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" Rodgers fumbled as he brought the phone back to his ear.

"You are a person of interest! I know you like to go all method for your stories but you're taking this too far this time. I get that you think you can hide under the 'Richard Castle' name but there's nothing I can do to keep you from the police. Alex … please tell me you didn't do this."

"I didn't! I don't even know what '_this_' is! What did the police say?"

"Not much. Just that a body was discovered and for some reason, they believe it to be connected to Richard Castle. I bought you some time saying we can't release any information about you—lord knows how many people have tried to trick information out of us about the famous 'Rick Castle'—so we told them to come back with some kind of warrant for more information. But that's not gunna hold them off for long—this sounds like the real NYPD for Pete's sake! Alex, are you sure you had nothing to do with this?"

"Yes! I'm sure!" Rodgers didn't know how else to emphatically express that he had nothing to do with this murder. While he may kill people for part of his living, he never considered engaging in those acts beyond the pages of his novels.

"Alright, Alex. I believe you. I'm going to try my best to keep them from getting to you, but keep this as a heads up and be careful."

And with that, Gina promptly ended the call, leaving Rodgers sitting in stupor on his leather couch. He doesn't know how long he sat there trying to process what had happened but his daughter eventually poked her head into his study to check up on him. He quickly snapped out of it after that—he never wants to worry her unnecessarily—and even though she could tell something was up, she graciously gave him some privacy. Next thing he knew, Rodgers found himself relocated to his desk, searching up news of recent murders in the area. Given his estimated timeline (_the murder probably occurred Sunday night if he was getting phone calls about it on Monday_) and with his powers of deduction (_there obviously has to be some connection to Richard Castle_) the most he was able to find was this murder of an Alison Tisdale, daughter of Jonathan Tisdale, the powerful real estate mogul. _Maybe he ought to pay that guy a visit?_

* * *

Katherine Beckett, _Detective_, sat at her desk, sharp and early on this Tuesday morning. Yesterday was unproductive; she couldn't find a focus for the case at all after her road block with some hard-headed publisher. Even after she went to her haven for difficult cases, the NYU library, she ended up more distracted than if she were to stay in the bullpen.

Early on, she discovered that the old library was a great place to get away from the chaos that the 12th precinct could live up to be. Though she hasn't been to the library in quite some time, she still remembers the first time she stepped over its weathering threshold and antique doors, in an attempt to hash out the details of her first case. She always remembers the smell of the old books and dark desks; every time she reenters the space, all those memories come rushing back to rejuvenate her for her most recent case. _And_ _I guess I never kicked the habit after spending years studying in one as an undergraduate student._

As she's grown more experienced and accustomed to the push and pull of her weird freaky cases, she hasn't had the need to return to the inspiring library. But this case though … _Alison Tisdale_. She and her people are at a complete impasse and she can't seem to get any more information from their only person of interest—Richard Castle.

She knew the minute she laid eyes on the body of the deceased that her murder was an exact replica of the one painted in words by famed novelist, Rick Castle. If she was honest with herself, her excitement towards the case increased almost to the point of concern, where dead people are involved. But she kept herself in check and went about gathering the pieces necessary to build her case for the rest of that night. When Monday morning came and she connected this murder to Marvin Fisk, the small claims lawyer, she knew she had to get in touch with Mr. Castle.

It's not that she was didn't want to deal with the red tape of his publishers being difficult with his identity—she figured that might be the case but for her investigation she couldn't hesitate—she just wasn't sure if she wants to know the man behind the image in her head. For her, Castle has always had a special place in her heart; his novels had gotten her through some of the toughest times in her life. To have the mystery of this man revealed to her, she didn't want her idealized image of him spoiled—especially if it turns out he thinks he can be above the law and kill someone in cold blood.

But murderer or no, whether Castle plays a role in these killings or not, he was someone she would have to talk to. It was probably this back and forth she was having with herself that landed her in someone else's arm yesterday. She was too busy fretting over the significance of discovering her favorite author versus solving her case that she walked right into someone exiting the library she was trying to enter for a little solitude of mind.

The reflexes of the man surprised her. And his eyes. _Those brilliant blue eyes_. She must have lost herself in them for a moment because she wasn't quite aware she was being dipped by a stranger until the sound of doors opening and closing registered to remind her of her surroundings. In her embarrassment, she brusquely asked him to release her and the entire time afterwards when she stooped down to pick up the fallen objects of their tussle, she kept trying to sneak glances at him without him noticing. Their moment may have stretched to something more if he hadn't run off, mumbling something about his students? _The man must've been a professor_. And quite a young one, if his strong gait and still brown hair could speak for him.

For the rest of her time in that library, she spent pondering the encounter she had with the stranger with those iridescent blue eyes. When an hour was up and she made no further progress with her work, she resolved to push the anomalous incident from her mind and return home for some rest and a fresh start the next day.

And that is where she now sits. Fresh day and new start, but that man's blue eyes and cutely awkward word fumble returns to her mind. She hasn't had a man strike her in this manner in quite some time and she's at a loss for words with herself. Fortunately though, before she progressed to ripping out her hair from frustration with herself and her case, her captain managed to distract her with a request to go interview the father of their recently deceased, Jonathan Tisdale. Until she or her detectives can get more information about this mysterious Richard Castle, she has to break the news to a father who just lost his daughter and see if there's any information there that may lead them away from the novelist.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you everyone for your support thus far. I will continue to attempt to update weekly, as I've been doing, but I want to appologize preemptively in the case that I am not as regular as I would like to be. I will be starting my studies for my graduate school exam so unfortunately, that has to take precedence in terms of priorities. All that said however, I do plan to continue with this story; updates just may not be as consistent. Hopefully, however, this little author's note will have proved unnecessary. :)_

_Btdubs, I appreciate all the reviews, follows, and favorites. I do keep them in mind every time I work on a new chapter update, to honor the time you've all taken in reading and commenting on my story. Thank you!_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Traffic at any time of the day in New York is like a clogged artery waiting for its aneurism to burst. Kate Beckett has long since accepted this fact—it was learned helplessness at its best. Sitting in her cruiser now, at high noon, Kate idly counted down the seconds till the light that seems miles ahead of her turns green. _Just a few more blocks_, she thought, as her gaze turned away towards the equally busy sidewalk every now and then. But after what seemed like ages and she did not believe herself to have made any further progress, Kate decided to just pull over to park these few blocks from the Tisdale building. Chances were, she wouldn't have found parking by then anyways.

But as luck would have it, even after she made it all the way to the right-most lane, she was still having trouble finding a parking spot for her cruiser. Even with her blinker light on and her eyes scanning the streets for some slight movement, she was kept at a standstill pace. She continued to inch towards the Tisdale building, in hopes that eventually a spot would open up, but to no avail.

After about another 15 minutes spent in this traffic, Kate's frustration got the best of her—she might as well have parked the next block over and walked to the building instead of sitting in her car for the last quarter hour waiting for this more direct route. Finally giving up, Kate changed lanes back to the left to U-turn and hedge her bets on a quieter block off this main one. Giving one last fleeting look towards the Tisdale building that looks so close now, Kate was just about to accept defeat when something familiar caught her attention. She couldn't make out the details of the person exiting out the front doors of the Tisdale building but there was something about this individual's floppy rich brown hair that struck a chord with her. She wanted to give the individual a second glance but her light had just turned green and her hesitation was already causing the cars behind her to blare their horns.

It wasn't long after Kate made her turn that she found a parking space within a decent distance from the Tisdale building. By the time she got to her destination however, the man she thought she may have recognized obviously was no longer there. Regardless, Kate passed it off in her mind as another anomalous event and pushed on to inform and interview the father of the recently deceased.

* * *

Jonathan Tisdale took the news of his daughter's murder as composedly as he could. After all, this was only the official confirmation of what he had been hearing from the media the day prior. At least now, he knows with certainty, the body found at his daughter's building was indeed her.

"Mr. Tisdale, I'm sorry for your loss," spoke the detective, breaking Tisdale from his brief reverie.

"No, Detective, unless you killed her, there's no need for you to be sorry," he solemnly replied back.

"She was still a life prematurely taken from this world and for that I am sorry. And I give you my word; I will do everything in my power to find your daughter's murderer. Did Allison ever mention having any enemies or being threatened?"

"People loved her. All she wanted was to make the world a better place. I told all this to the other detective."

"The other detective?"

"I'm sorry, not the other detective. I had a guest here before you who asked a lot of questions very similar in style to the ones you're asking now."

"I see. May I ask who this guest was?"

"He was just an individual interested in doing some business with me, but considering the media surrounding my daughter's murder, it's not surprising he was curious about Allison. His questions were simply very focused; for a moment there, I made the mistake of calling him a detective as well."

"Thank you, Mr. Tisdale. Thank you for your time. I promise I'll let you know as soon as we have any updates."

And with that, the detective left, looking slightly more concerned than when she entered but Tisdale's mind was elsewhere. He does not have the energy to think about others. A child should never leave the world before its parents, and with his luck, he figured that wasn't something he would have to worry about. As he looked emptily around his polish but barren office, that which was once a testament to how _lucky_ he's been in his life to achieve so much, now only shows how the fates have turned.

* * *

Rodgers sat at his office desk, idly staring at his laptop, waiting until it was time to walk over to the graduate writing seminar he due to lead in a few hours. His morning was unfruitful and his visit to Jonathan Tisdale did not yield any new information. Well, scratch that. He did learn something new. The guy looked terminally ill and seemed to be wearing a hairpiece to cover up the chemo treatments he must be getting. Rodgers doesn't remember reading anything about that in the papers, but all in all, that would be about the only connection they'd have with each other—being published in the same paper as minor celebrities and persons of considerable wealth and power.

Rodgers left the Tisdale building with just as many questions as he had when he entered. _How is Richard Castle connected to all this? _But with no more leads, it appears all he can do is wait for the warrant that the police was sure to procure and for Black Pawn, his publishing company, to give him up.

Sighing dejectedly, he tried to focus the letters on the screen into words and read the random email one of his college freshmen sent him. It's cute how sometimes his students would send him articles or funny stories they thought he'd be interested in, and for the most part, they'd usually prove to be a sufficient distraction. Today, unfortunately, his mind remains occupied with matters apparently out of his control.

_Okay. Change of scenery. _He's been unproductively sitting here at his quiet office desk for far too long and he doesn't like that. Maybe a change of location will help him kick his day into gear._ And coffee. Go get yourself some coffee, Alex_. Caffeine is usually a good jolt to his day to help him focus. Granted, it's about 2 in the afternoon, but he's yet to meet an English professor who hasn't developed a tolerance towards caffeine, be it coffee or tea.

So in about ten minutes, he was packed with his laptop and shoulder bag, ready to head towards the library and stop by the coffee cart he knows to be parked right outside the building. _Oh good, there's not much of a line._ Rodgers found himself behind a tall brunette, whose figure looked slightly familiar. _Maybe a student in one of his lectures?_ No, she looked little older to be a student. _Maybe a TA for one of his fellow colleagues_. Well whoever she is, he couldn't help admiring her strong stance. This was a confident woman, he was sure—not stiff or un-relaxing, but assertive, the way she stood proud and tall.

He continued this little game of "people watching," making silent assessments of strangers he never plans to have further contact with. Though the line wasn't very long, this helped him pass the time and take his mind off a murder case that he has no idea how he's involved with. As the woman before him turned slightly to glance down at her hip, he found his gaze lowered to the same area. A phone was apparently vibrating softly, asking for her attention and in her retrieval of such, he managed to catch a flash of a badge that revealed itself when she swept her blazer to the side. _Whoa. Am I starting to project my own concerns on strangers or was that really a police badge? _

"Beckett," the woman answered simply.

_That voice_. He knows that voice. _But it can't be, can it?_ Unfortunately, she was already approaching the front of the line as she picked up her phone so Rodgers had no further way of confirming her identity with her attention focused forward.

"Alright boys, thanks—oh vanilla skim latte please—sorry. Where were we? Right. Just keep me updated? I'll be back soon. Gotta clear my mind a bit to try and find the focus for this case again. Talk to you guys soon; I have to pay now."

The mystery woman started patting her front pockets, fumbling with her phone a bit as she attempted to return it to her side holster at the same time. Taking a gamble, Rodgers decided it was best to act quickly before she found her cash.

"Here, let me," he interjected as he extended the bill in his hand to the cashier, "Can you also add to the order a regular café mistro?"

"Thank you, but you don't ha—" the woman (_whose name he thinks is Beckett?_) looked up from patting her pant pockets. His gamble paid off. It is her! _Is that recognition he sees in her eyes?_

"Don't worry about it. Here, why don't we move over to the side so other people can order their drinks," he casually suggested. "Hi, my name is Alex. Now that we're no longer strangers, let me buy you this drink."

His mega-watt smile must be working because she's reciprocating the gesture and smiling back as she replies, somewhat shyly, "Thank you. Hi. My name is Kate."

_Kate. That's a good name_. He likes it.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Slightly innocuous, but I changed Alexis's age in Chapter 3 from 16 to 14. A reviewer pointed out that she should be 14 if I'm aiming to follow the canon timeline and I am. I had chosen an arbitrary number when writing this (16 sounded like a more mature age), and I don't have a beta (I'm not even sure I know what they are or how to get one, but I see authors talk about having one?), so please excuse the alteration. Her change in age shouldn't affect the story in any significant manner; I just wanted to inform y'alls of this modification (but if anyone notices any other inconsistencies, please feel free to send them my way and I'll be happy to make the change if it fits with what I'm trying to do with this story). Happy readings. :)_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Kate couldn't stop smiling, as she breezed into the precinct that Wednesday morning. Her trip to the library was made in the effort to get some peace of mind. Never would she have expected to run into _him_. _Alexander Rodgers_.

After her interview with Jonathan Tisdale, she did not feel like returning to the precinct, having only more questions and no solid answers. So instead—who knows what compelled her—she decided to return to the NYU Library because just maybe, she might be able to get some work done there. Little did she know, the exact opposite would be happening. After the initial awkward introduction and she got to talking with Alex (_or should she be saying Prof. Rodgers?_), they ended up talking for two hours before he had to run off to lead some writing seminar. But not before he asked her out on a "real date," as he called it, for the next night. It happened so fast, she found herself agreeing to his request without even thinking about it. She couldn't censure herself for not taking longer to consider her answer because the silly adorkable smile he gave her sent all further thoughts out the window. _And now I have a dinner date tonight with this man I just met yesterday_.

"Yo Beckett, we got it."

"What?" _Okay, was she just daydreaming and staring off into space? At work?_

"The warrant, Beckett," replied Hispanic detective, Javier Esposito. If he noticed her distractedness, he chose not to comment on it. "The warrant came through for more information on Richard Castle. Ryan is on the phone with them now."

"Thanks Espo," Kate sighed, as she mentally kicked herself in the rear. _Looks like her case is finally getting somewhere_. And pretty much when she finished that thought, she noticed Kevin Ryan, Esposito's partner, hang up the phone and turn around to face them.

"Alright, we got somewhere. Sort of. It seems Black Pawn is better at protecting their authors than we expected. They're still not giving up who 'Richard Castle' is but they're willing to release his fan mail to us," said Ryan, as he updated them on the situation.

"Okay, I guess that's better than nothing," Kate acknowledged. "When is it coming in?"

"Later this evening, I think."

"Good job Ryan. Pick them up if you have to but can you go see if they'll come any fast—" Kate found herself cut off when her phone suddenly rang out, crying for her attention. _Dammit, please let it not be a new body drop; they were finally getting somewhere_. Half holding her breath, she picked up her phone, "Beckett. Uh-huh. Got it; midtown. Okay, we're on our way."

She could see her boys looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to confirm what they already assumed. "Never mind, Ryan. Give instructions to someone to make sure Castle's fan mail ends up in the conference room when we get back. We got a fresh one."

* * *

_Katherine Beckett, NYPD_. Yeah, he definitely finds that hot. Rodgers can't get his mind to stop thinking about _Detective Beckett_ when he woke up that morning; he still couldn't stop thinking about her as he idly flipped the pancake he precariously balanced on his spatula for his daughter's breakfast.

She was so easy to talk to yet educated and intelligent. They spent hours talking about books, travel, culture, everything—but it wasn't enough. Quite simply, she was a fascinating woman. _And he's got a real date with this enchanting person. _He couldn't stop the goofy smile that blossomed on his face even if he wanted to. _Where should he take her? They talked so much yesterday, how does he not know if she likes Chinese food, or Indian food, or Italian?!_

"Hey Dad. You're up early," Alexis greeted him as she descended the staircase, but his focus was elsewhere and he didn't notice his daughter. "Dad?"

Alexis had to sidle up to her father and physically nudge him a bit to get his attention. "Your pancakes are burning," she teased.

"Wha?"

"Pancakes, Dad. Seriously, what's on your mind this morning?" Alexis asked as she walked back around the kitchen island to sit on the bar stool facing her father.

"Oh nothing darling. I'm sorry. Just, you know, stuff," Rodgers replied, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

"Righttttt. I'm guessing you sorted things out with Gina?"

"Gina?"

"Well, you looked pretty down yesterday after you talked to her."

"Oh it's nothing to worry about, honey. But since you mentioned it, that reminds me; I need to call her. Here, help yourself to the pancakes."

"Daddy, these are burnt."

But when Alexis looked up, her father already left the kitchen area and was walking towards his study. So instead, she just reached over to his plate of pancakes and stole the ones off there. _He was already leaving, so he probably wouldn't mind_. Alexis noticed his slight change in demeanor when she mentioned Gina, but figured, if something really serious was going on he would tell her, right? She didn't like this feeling of uneasiness and doubt but her father was smiling this morning so maybe it was just all in her head. Alexis tried to brush it off as she continued her meal before glancing at her watch, noticing it was about time she headed off to school. Her father still hadn't return from his study but she didn't want to bother him with her goodbyes. _I hope everything's okay._

* * *

"Alex?"

"Hey Gina. I wanted to call to see if you have any updates on my situation?" Rodger's morning was going so well, too well that he almost forgot he was in the middle of a murder investigation until his daughter inadvertently reminded him.

"Oh good. You're just in time; saved me the hassle of calling you," Gina replied when she confirmed it was Rodgers on the other end of the line. "I've been on the phone with the police all morning. Do you want the good news first or the bad?"

Inwardly, Rodgers groaned. "I'm not gunna like this am I? Alright, just hit me; doesn't matter which."

"Well, good news is we had our lawyers look at their warrant and it showed they only wanted information on Richard Castle that would be pertinent to their case. So I guess the bad news would be we had to turn over something, which would be your fan mail in this case, but for the most part, we were able to get away with not telling them the real 'Richard Castle' is you."

"Phew. I can live with that," he responded, releasing the breath he had been holding.

"But Alex, I don't know if that's the end of it. The detective I talked to, Detective Ryan, I think? Anyways, I managed to get some more information out of him and it looks like someone is killing people like the way you do in your books. Alex, I don't think you're in the clear yet; there's something about this whole case that's unsettling to me."

"No, yeah, I understand. Thanks Gina. Is there anything I can do in the mean time?"

"I would say lay low, but it's not like people even know who you are in relation to Richard Castle," Gina laughed humorlessly. "Just, don't be yourself? I know you, Alexander Rodgers. Don't go poking your nose into things that doesn't need poking and don't do anything stupid until this whole thing blows over. Even if you're not involved—"

"I'm not, I swear!"

"I know Alex, I believe you. But if somehow something, anything, gets traced back to you, we don't want to give them further unnecessary cause for your arrest."

"Aww, you're actually worried about me, Gina?" Rodgers teased, hoping to lighten the serious conversation they've been having.

"Careful Alex. I'm just trying to protect my assets. You go, and with you, those nice little paychecks I get from your sales leave too. But hey, who knows, maybe with this blow in your cover, the sales will increase from your infamy?"

"Oh you wound me, Gina."

"Well, regardless. Be careful. I have to get back to work now, but I'll contact you with more updates if I receive any."

"Thanks," he responded honestly. "Sincerely, thank you."

"No problem, Alex. It's what I'm here for. Talk to you soon." And with that, she hung up the phone, leaving Rodgers, once again, immobile in his office with all the thoughts swirling around in his head.

Now he knows why the police are targeting him. Someone is aping his books, murdering people in the way he kills them in his novels. No wonder the police are desperate to get in touch with Richard Castle. For all they know, it could be the man himself who dreamt up these murders. They're probably thinking Richard Castle somehow snapped from all the secrecy, or whatever, and decided it was about time to test out his novels in the true crime market. _Ooo, that would be an interesting plot for a new novel. No No, focus, Alex. _

He needed to get away from this a bit. He has a lecture presentation to finish and a date to plan ... with a detective ... who solves crime for a living. _Light bulb. Does Kate know anything about this case?_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: For reference, what Kate and Alex wears in this chapter is what Kate and Rick wore in 2x14, _The Third Man_, on their dates with other people. Also, the restaurant they eat at is a real place in New York so if you want a more solid image of where they'll be spending their night, you can look up the name of that establishment (_One if by Land, Two if by Sea_) in Google images._

_And really quick, a shout out to a few people: **annem57**, thank you for volunteering to be my beta; you've really helped with this chapter and the future ones in development! **SassaM** & **phnxgrl**, there are references in this chapter for you two; thank you for your faithful reviews and enlightening conversations. :)_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

It's almost 7pm and Alex Rodgers is due to arrive at her door any second now. Kate has been fidgeting with her dress for the better part of the last half hour, mentally going through her wardrobe because maybe she should've gone with that other outfit? _No no; there's no time now_. She was stuck in the red, off the shoulder, Michael Kors piece she chose from the back of her closet. _Is red too bold a color for her first date?_ Maybe she should go with that more professional but equally form fitting blue Hervé Leger dress she knows to be in her closet somewhere.

Beckett was almost going to walk back into her bedroom to change again, for the umpteenth time, when the knock at her door halted her in her tracks. _He's here_.

Slowly, Kate walked to her front door, taking a moment to collect her nerves as she peered through her peephole before opening the door. Upon its release, there stood the man who ended up occupying her thoughts all afternoon, grinning with that nervous lopsided smile that she couldn't get out of her head either_. Alexander Rodgers_. The man was smartly dressed for a "stuffy professor" and Kate could already imagine his students swooning over him as she gave him a once over. He was tall and handsome, ruggedly so, and he wore a deep purple shirt that complimented the blue in his eyes. His dark suit was perfectly tailored to his broad frame, and the way his hair was slicked back made her want to reach up and run her fingers through them. For a professor, he sure knew how to take care of himself.

"Hi," Rodgers shyly greeted, shifting his weight to the left as he nervously acknowledged his date for the night. "This is for you." He removed his hand from behind his back and abruptly presented her with a gift wrapped box, simple in its blue flowered pattern design and no bow. "Don't open it until after I leave?"

Curious as she was, she graciously accepted the gift and turned to walk it back to the coffee table in her living room. Rodgers stood awkwardly at her door, not sure if he should follow her into her home or stand guard at its entrance. His decision was made for him when she returned momentarily with a coat replacing the gift box that was in her hands.

"Sorry 'bout that. Thank you for the gift," Kate softly commented, blushing as she looked anywhere but into his blue blue eyes. "Should we get going?"

"Yes. Right. My car is right outside."

When Kate looked up, she could see that Alex was just as flustered as she was, so she figured it was about time she cut the guy some slack and steeled her own resolves. _There's no point to both of them being nervous. She's faced serial killers with fewer nerves than this_. After slipping into her coat, she picked up her clutch and casually slipped her arm around his as well, leading him out the door and towards the elevator in her building.

* * *

Alexander Rodgers was nervous. He hasn't been on that many dates since Alexis was born, or rather, many that mattered, so needless to say, he feels unprepared and like a fish out of water. He wanted to show up with flowers and chocolate or a bottle of wine, but the literature professor and writer in him told him that was way too cliché. So instead, he settled on the gift he now holds in his hand as he stands outside her door. _I hope she likes this_.

The minute she opened the door, all the words he planned to say were swept aside with the door. _She was stunning_. He doesn't even know how she pulled it off, that arresting red dress that fell across her shoulder, exposing the prominent clavicle and silky smooth skin on the other side. It looked loose and comfortable from the torso up, but tight and sultry as it hugged her hips and oh, when she turned around after he awkwardly presented his gift to her—that dress does wonders to the view of her backside too.

_It's going to be a long night_. One he definitely hopes will never end.

* * *

They arrived at a quiet, historic looking restaurant-tavern-y place in West Village, complete with its red bricked walls and treasured old double doors. A white stone arch was built into the building, and sported two ancestral-looking lanterns. If Kate thought the street view outside was inspiring, she clearly hadn't been inside yet. There were candles on every table-clothed table—from what she could see upon her immediate entrance—and beautiful candle chandeliers hung from the ceiling as it enveloped its patrons in its warm glow.

"Welcome to One if by Land, Two if by Sea!" greeted the experienced maître d'. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, I have a reservation for two? The name is Rodgers."

Kate continued to look around the cozy interior, taking in the rich woodwork, muted colors and peaceful ambiance as the maître d' checked the book before him for their names. Soft classic piano music floated over to her ears as Alex steered her towards their table, following the maître d', after their reservation was confirmed.

"What is this place?" She asked after they were seated, next to a wall length artwork of some American general, and the maître d' left them to the waiter that was promised to arrive shortly. Over in the corner from their table, she spied the grand piano where someone was playing the smooth tones she heard entering the dining area from the front hall.

"One if by Land, Two if by Sea," Alex smiled, almost proudly.

"Yeah, I gathered as much when the maître d' said so. I mean, what _is_ this place?" Kate repeated, rolling her eyes a bit.

"That, my dear detective, is a mystery for you to solve," Alex winked.

Before Kate could say anything, their waiter had arrived, forcing Kate to hold her tongue for the moment as she pondered over their delectable menu. Everything looked amazing but eventually, they settled on ordering their appetizer and entrees first before even considering the dessert menu; she decided on the Sicilian pesto pappardelle appetizer and poached dayboat cod entrée, while her partner chose the shellfish risotto and their apparently famous beef wellington. After the waiter secured their orders for the night, he promptly left them to their own devices and Kate couldn't help but look around the room once more.

"This place is really lovely; how did you find it?" She figured if she took a different approach with her questions, she'll get him to explain a little more about this intriguing establishment.

"Haha, okay okay," _Oops, did he figure out her plan already?_ "A colleague of mine recommended this place to me. At first I was a little skeptical when he suggested the place—I mean, what kind of name for a restaurant is One if by Land, Two if by Sea? He teaches American History, which explains the suggestion and why he frequents the place so much, but that doesn't guarantee anything to the quality or service of the restaurant. But after my first time here, I couldn't help but agree with his recommendation. I may not be a total history buff but there are some other pretty cool things about this place. Did you know it's been rumored that Aaron Burr, our third Vice President and the original owner of this 'carriage house,' along with about twenty other ghosts from various time periods, haunt this building? How awesome is that?!"

Kate nodded along encouragingly as Alex was recounting his experience with the restaurant and though American history does not fascinate her as much, nor the exclamation regarding the supernatural, she found herself listening aptly just because her speaker was so excited about his subject. Soon, she found herself wrapped up in the conversation too, as they moved from history on to art and the local museums, then on to other pastimes such as baseball (_did Alex say something about knowing Joe Torre?!)_ and more. Their next course came and went and yet, they continued to talk; it was like that awkward pause at her front door never happened and they've known each other for a long time.

"So Detective, can I ask you a bit about your job. I must say, you fascinate me."

_Oh here it comes_. She knew she shouldn't have spoken so soon about how well the night was going. Most men she dated are either intimidated by her work or interested in the kinkier side that comes with being a female cop carrying a gun and handcuffs. She was really starting to like this guy; she sincerely hopes Alex doesn't fall into either category if they're to turn this date into a relationship.

Rodgers seemed to notice her hesitancy because he backpedaled a bit, "I mean, tell me about the case you're working on right now. I feel like we've been talking about surface things all night and while I know stuff about you like how you enjoy Russian classics and the occasional trip on your Harley Softail (hot, by the way), I don't really know what you do day to day. What keeps you moving forward?"

_Wow, what a loaded question_. When she still didn't respond immediately—_how was she supposed to answer that question? what keeps you moving forward?_—he continued by answering his own question, hoping to put her at ease a bit.

"Here, I'll start. As you know, I'm a comparative literature professor at NYU, and I teach both undergraduate and graduate students. While I read and enjoy all forms of literature, I mainly focus on American and English classics (so you could probably give me a run for my money with the Russians). The magic of storytelling never ceases to amaze me and that's what drives me. We all have the words, the phrases, the grammar—but when I see authors use these basic means of communication and social interactions and put them together into something new, they're not just bringing a work of art to life, they are birthing a new idea and thought."

Alex's encouraging smile and explanation served well to ameliorate some slight panic that was starting to brew whenever she was asked personal details relating to her profession of choice. _What should she say?_

"Uhh, well, I can't discuss any open homicide cases I have going on," she started, "but I can definitely understand what you say regarding the nuances in writing and English literature. In a way, that same attention to detail is what makes me passionate about my work. Solving cases is like solving the ultimate puzzle, where lives could hang in the balance, and careful attention to detail is so important because it could mean the difference between catching the killer or not. What drives me is the families of the victims; I work hard not just to bring the killer to justice, but to give the families left behind some closure."

"Wow, Detective, that's very profound."

"You know, you've been calling me Detective all night, _Professor_."

"Ooo, does that turn you on?"

"What?! Oh you're such a kid."

Kate found herself laughing, despite the almost serious conversation they were just having. Being with Alex is _fun_. He can sense and ease the tensions before they appear and it's so easy to carry a conversation with him. When she glanced back up from her empty plate—_how long had they been talking that she already finished her food?_—he stared back at her, unspeaking. He must be a mind reader or something because the look he was giving her signaled a depth to his feelings she wasn't expecting (from both him and her). Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand lift from its place by his eating utensils and move towards her own across the small table. Right before his palm made contact however, a faint buzzing distracted its course.

Kate disappointedly switched her gaze from their almost joined hands to her clutch that sat next to their food. _Please, if it's the precinct, let it be something she can fix tomorrow_. For once, she doesn't want to sacrifice her personal time to her work. But when she opened her clutch, the phone inside stayed silent and unmoving as its screen continued to reflect the darkness of inactivity. Looking up, she saw Alex reach for his own phone on the table side opposite to hers and immediately, the carefree, light look on his face changed.

"Alexis, what's wrong?"


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Sorry for the late update. I had a really busy week, with my internship, unintentional interviews/auditions, and random commutes. I'll try to get the next one up by Wednesday again, but I don't know if I'll be able to write it before then. I appreciate all the love I'm recieveing for this story though so thank you! I hope y'alls like this chapter. :)_

* * *

**Chapter 8  
**

"Dad! I'm so glad you picked up. Grams said not to call you—quite frankly, I'm surprised she didn't call you herself—and it's not that big a deal but I thought you should know, and I know you're on your date so that's why Gram said not to call you but I think this is important and I'm sorry if I'm—"

"Honey, slow down. Alexis, what's happened?"

On the other end of the line, Rodgers heard his daughter take a calming breath before she replied, "Gram broke her leg."

"Wait, what? How?"

"Don't worry, Dad, she's fine. It wasn't that serious, but I thought you should know. I know you're on that date you were really excited about but I didn't want you to come home and see Gram with her cast then feel guilty for not knowing. I'm just telling you so you know what's up. It's really not that serious and I can manage things here until you get back."

"No, Alexis, I'm coming home now."

"But Dad—"

"No, Alexis, I'll be home soon. I'll talk to you then."

Rodgers promptly hung up his phone and would have run right out of the restaurant had not a hand clamped over his, halting his progress. Looking up, he stared into the concerned eyes of the woman who had occupied his mind all day, yet who was instantly forgotten the moment his daughter called.

"Alex, is everything okay?"

The way her sincere worry shone through those beautiful hazel eyes, Rodgers felt his staccato heart slowly resume a more normal palpitation.

"Talk to me Alex. What's wrong?"

"My mother. She broke her leg?" It came out as a question. Even though his daughter assured him there was nothing to worry about, how could he not? His always indestructible mother was facing a mortality he didn't want to acknowledge, no matter how slight this circumstance was.

"Is she okay? Where is she?"

"I think she's at home? I don't know, my daughter didn't tell me much."

"Okay, then home we'll go. If she's not there, then we'll check out the local hospital."

At Rodger's slight nod, Kate took it upon herself to wave over the waiter, telling him they'll take their dessert to go. After ordering the first dessert that looked appealing to her, she asked for two of that to go and the check. Rodgers managed to pull himself together just in time to beat Kate to the check when it came to their table, along with the desserts neatly wrapped and ready for transportation.

Before too long, Rodgers found himself sitting in the passenger seat—_how on earth did he end up in the passenger seat of his own car?_—as Kate drove them back to his loft. Not that he was complaining though because aside from the soft instructions he gave her to find his loft, he was pretty much left to his own thoughts. He would've started questioning his situation and gone crazy—_did he really just get a phone call, from his daughter, on an important date, telling him his mother broke her leg? what were the odds?_—had he not felt Kate's hand reach across the console and softly place itself above his on his thigh.

"Don't worry, Alex. Everything will be fine."

* * *

Kate pulled into the garage beneath a nondescript building and turned to the man who stayed pretty silent for the majority of the ride back to his place. The moment Alex took that phone call (_from his daughter, she believed?_), Kate saw a whole other person from the charming literature professor who'd been slowly wooing her with his words and animated personality. The person she saw was a serious man committed to his family life and she had to admit, as horrible as this situation is, it illustrated this side of him to her, and she was becoming more and more attracted to this stranger she met not half a week ago.

Looking down at their joined hands—it felt so natural with his palm cradled in hers—she gave his hand one last squeeze before reluctantly letting go. _Had she really held his hand all through that car ride?_

"Come on, Alex. We're here, I think." She gave him a comforting smile when he glanced up. Quietly, she slipped out of the car and walked around over to his door to hand him back his keys. "Thanks for letting me drive."

She hadn't intended on taking the wheel (literally and figuratively) but the lost look in his eyes was too reminiscent of the families she faced on the job. So she did what she did best, take control of the situation to get the necessary solutions.

They stood in Alex's garage for a moment when he exited his car—her not knowing what to do from here and him not wanting to detain her unnecessarily.

"Thank you for driving me, Kate. I'm sorry, let me call you a cab; I appreciate you being with me this long but you don't have to stay."

"No Alex. I'll leave if you want me to but I'd like to stay if you'll let me. Besides, have you ever dealt with leg fractures before?"

"Not really. I've written enough about broken bones though."

"Written about?"

"Oh you know, as a university professor and all; we publish a lot of papers." Alex seemed a little flustered by the question but she didn't really understand why. It made sense for a university professor to publish a lot of papers—she didn't know a literature professor would need to write about broken bones—but there doesn't seem to be anything odd about what he said though. But the way he was fidgeting made her almost want to doubt her logic until she decided to just chalk it up to nerves for his mother instead.

"Well, writing about leg fractures is different from actually dealing with one. Trust me, as a cop, I know a thing or two about broken bones. Your mother lives with you right? You'll probably need some help moving her to her bed and stuff if her leg is wrapped up in a giant cast."

Alex seemed to agree to her suggestion because his expression softened as he looked her in the eyes. "Thank you Kate. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Hey, don't worry about it," she said as she turned to walk towards what looks like an elevator out of his garage. "You coming?"

* * *

The moment Kate stepped into Alex's loft, her jaw almost dropped to the ground right there in his open foyer. His home was so open, like his casual friendly demeanor, but stylishly furnished, like his immaculate dress. _How does a university professor make enough to afford this place? _

"Wow, I think I chose the wrong profession."

"Ahaha, I do some other work on the side," Alex deferred.

"What other work lets you live in a place like this?"

Alex just gave her an enigmatic smile before he turned towards the side stairs and shouted up, "Mother, are you up there?"

A groan sounded out somewhere in the opposite direction, however, over by the lounge area past the kitchen.

"Alexander, can't you let your mother take a nap?" spoke the red-head who sat up from her napping position on the couch. "Honestly, I told that daughter of yours not to call. I'm alright, see?"

Upon turning to half glare at her son (though secretly she was glad he came home) her eyes were drawn to the woman by his side. "Oh? And is this the lovely lady you couldn't stop talking about all afternoon?"

"Mother!"

"Oh hush, kiddo. What are you doing standing all the way over there by the door? Bring the girl over already!"

Alex seemed a little hesitant, more out of embarrassment than anything, but he obliged his mother anyways. That didn't stop him from whispering in Kate's ear a warning about how flamboyant yet comfortable his mother can get within a few minutes of meeting someone. Kate just chuckled as he ushered her towards the couch and around to the armchair adjacent to it.

"Hi, my name is Kate."

"Yes, I know, that's the name I heard all day long. Though I doubt my son would've told you mine. Nice to meet you darling; the name is Martha. How's my son treating you?"

"Wait, _the_ Martha Rodgers?"

"Oh a Broadway fan? Nice to hear _I_ have one." It sounded to Kate like Martha emphasized the "I" in her last statement but Kate felt like she was missing something, like the punchline to an inside joke. Before she could think about it any further though, Martha breezed on with her comments. "Don't let this one go, Alexander."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Alex replied and Kate found herself blushing a bit at his rapt response. "But enough of this interrogation of Kate. Mother, how's your leg?"

"Pft. I told Alexis not to worry about it. The doctor said it was a 'hairline fracture'? Something or other, but nothing to fret over. I just have to keep this cast on for a few weeks while it heals."

Alex let out a sigh of relief as his mother continued to explain how she simply slipped while rehearsing a play; he, of course, had to tease her back about the irony of literally "breaking a leg," after he got over his concerns and realized she really was alright. Kate observed their interactions and felt calmed by their easy relationship and soft banter, reminding her of her own relationship with her late mother. Thankfully, Kate didn't have to reflect on that for long as she looked up as she heard another set of feet join them.

"Hey Dad! I didn't hear you come in. You didn't have to come home; everything's fine, see—"

The younger redhead stopped abruptly when she made eye contact with Kate, and shyly whispered her greetings. "Hi. You must be Detective Beckett. My dad has told me so much about you. I'm sorry to have interrupted your date."

"Oh, don't worry about it. And it's just Kate. I'm not on duty right now," Kate smiled warmly back at her, hoping to make a good impression. Who knew that she'd already be meeting the family on the first date? But they were very accommodating; even if the focus was supposed to be on Martha and her leg, Kate found herself laughing along with many of their jokes and teaming up with Alexis to tease Alex. They seemed to just accept and welcome her into their little niche.

When Martha yawned for the second time in as many minutes, Alex suggested that they call it a night. Alexis volunteered to help her father carry her grandmother up the stairs but Kate would have none of that; she was the trained officer and she knew more than a thing or two more about first aid and care. So at Kate's suggestion, Alex sent his daughter up to her room first, bidding her a good night with a kiss to her temple and a hug before he redirected his attention towards his mother. It took them a few tries but they managed to find a comfortable position for all three of them to make their way up the staircase. Kate decided to leave Alex alone with his mother after they tucked her in and wandered back down the staircase to give them some privacy.

Kate wasn't sure where she should wait, if she even should, but leaving without saying good bye felt way too rude. So she lingered around the kitchen area for a bit before walking back to the lounge area upon spying the forgotten dessert they had brought home with them. Kate lifted the bag and was about to walk back to the kitchen to place its contents in Alex's fridge when something caught her eye. There were some mail and documents under the bag and the image of a black pawn stuck out to her on the edge of one of the envelopes. Somewhere in the back of her mind, that image seemed vaguely familiar but before she could investigate further, she heard Alex walk back down the stairs. Forgetting the envelope, she abandoned her curiosity for the more rewarding mystery heading her way: Alexander Rodgers.

* * *

"You like that girl don't you?" Martha asked after Kate had excused herself from the room, leaving her alone with her son.

"Yeah, I do. A lot. She's a mystery."

"Alexander, she's a detective."

His mother didn't say anything further, but Alex knew what she was implying. He hadn't intended on telling his mother about the mix up with him and Richard Castle, and the murder that he's a suspect for, but in his excitement earlier in the day, he found himself spilling his guts to his mother.

"I know, mother. I know."

Martha gave him a long look, making some silent assessment he couldn't decrypt, before pulling the covers up and shooing him out of the room. "Well, if you like that girl so much, what are you still doing here in my room while she's waiting for you downstairs? Leave me alone to my beauty sleep."

Even if Alex wanted to continue his conversation with his mother, she was already closing her eyes and feigning sleep. So silently, he made his way out of her room and down the stairs to his waiting detective. She was standing by his kitchen counter with the bag of takeout dessert she had carried over from the living room where he left it after they arrived.

"Hey," he greeted softly. "Thank you for staying. I really can't say that enough."

The simple smile she reflected back at him was radiant. He didn't intend on having Kate meet his family so soon, but she bore it with grace. There were moments when he thought he saw some sadness in her eyes, but when his daughter joined the conversation, she became just as engaging as she had been.

Kate met him halfway from the kitchen and for a moment, neither of them knew what to say.

"I should probably leave—"

"Would you like a drink—"

_Okay, deep breaths, Alex_. "Ahaha, sorry. It's been a long night, I'm sure. Here, let me walk you to the door."

"Thanks." Kate replied as Alex guided her forward, with his hand low on her back. "Tell your mom I had a wonderful time meeting her tonight, regardless of the situation that prompted it. And your daughter, Alex, she's amazing. She was a delight to speak with."

The way Kate almost gushed about his family warmed his heart even further. They were already at his front door but he didn't want to let her go. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand was already cupping her cheek and he was leaning in for a soft kiss.

"I'm sorry, I should've asked first. I—"

"It's okay. I didn't mind." Kate looked a little hesitant and he was about to release his hold on her when she surged forward and reclaimed his lips. She was tentative at first, but the moment she braved herself to nip lightly at his bottom lip, he couldn't help but cant into her, pushing her slowly back against the door.

Passion would be an understatement for what he felt emanating from her lips. They were soft and lush, but so strong and firm as his danced over hers. Before too long, her tongue had slipped into his mouth as her hands slipped under his jacket and pulled him flush against her. Alex felt himself getting lost in the taste of her, so sweet and uniquely reminiscent of some fruit he couldn't quite identify. He wanted to continue tasting her—maybe he'd discover what that fruit is—but she slowly pulled away, dipping her forehead to rest it against his.

Kate waited for both of them to catch their breath a bit, before she whispered, "Now we're even."

"Even?" he exhaled, still breathless.

It was now her turn to give him the enigmatic smile he last gave her at this door. Instead of answering his question, she just pulled him in for one last scorching kiss before letting him go one final time to straighten up her clothes.

"I should go."

"Mhmm."

"Alex, I had a great time today."

"Mhmm. I did too. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Reluctantly, Alex let Kate go. She had work tomorrow; he did too. But that knowledge didn't stop him from wanting to keep her in his company for longer. With a sigh, he watched as she opened the door and walked out of his loft, but not without a backwards glance to him who moved to stare after her from the threshold of his home. It wasn't until the elevators closed after her that it hit him.

_She tasted like cherries._


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Looks like I found the time to write after all. :P Enjoy! ^^_

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Kate walked into the precinct with a smile on her face and a book in her arms. All morning, she couldn't shake her happy feelings. Thinking back, she may have been just a little impulsive and moved just a little too fast, kissing Alex like that, but he was way too adorable to pass up. And his lips! God, that made up for all her rash decisions. _That man knew how to kiss a lady_.

Kate found herself blushing and knowing how nosy her fellow detectives could be, she made sure to make a beeline for her desk once she cleared the elevator. Just to be on the safe side, she focused her attention downwards to hide some of the warmth she was feeling in her cheeks from the memories of his hands low on her back and his hips pressed against hers. But the book in Kate's hands that now came into view, _Flowers for Your Grave_, just sparked more memories of the night prior.

Last night was full of surprises—from lovely dinner conversations to family meetings—and the gift she was finally able to open when she got home did not disappoint either. She did not expect him to remember the book she was carrying when they first bumped into each other, let alone that she was carrying a book at all. But the inscription inside just went to prove how thoughtful and sweet (_not to mention cheesy_) the man was:

"Kate, I cannot imagine _falling_ with anyone else. Thank you for the wonderful date. –Alexander Rodgers"

How he knew the date would even turn out amazing was beyond her. Even with the unfortunate interruptions, she found her night to be much more genuine and real than most dates she'd been on. But being back at work now, in the precinct and the _real world_, Kate can't help but wonder when the other shoe will drop. Despite their amazing night and stimulating conversations, she couldn't help but doubt her luck.

With a sigh, Kate sat down at her desk and called out to her boys who had probably been there since early in the morning. "Hey, where are we on the case?"

"Yo. Late night, Beckett?" responded Esposito with a smirk, spinning around in his chair to face his boss across the cramped but open planned bullpen.

"None of your business, Espo. So how's it going?"

"Well, Lanie called earlier. That body we found yesterday? Kendra Pitney? She said it wasn't a stabbing; her murder was staged, like the others," Ryan chimed in, ever the professional.

"So Marvin Fisk, i.e. _Hell Hath no Fury_, then Alison Tisdale, or _Flowers for Your Grave_," Kate couldn't help but smile as she listed off that last book before continuing, "and now Kendra for _Death of a Prom Queen_? What is it about those books?"

"What about them? Why would that matter?" Ryan asked, moving away from his computer to give Beckett his full attention.

"Did you guys do your homework? Flowers for Your Grave and Hell Hath no Fury were kind of Castle's lesser works. It just doesn't make sense why the killer would pick those out of his many other bestsellers."

"Does it matter why? Maybe those were just easier to replicate?" Ryan suggested.

"Hmmm, I don't know. Anyways, where are we on Castle's fanmail?"

"We're still combing through it, but haven't been able to make a serious dent. We've been busy going through the minimal security at all three crime scenes and talking to some people who had access to the pool in the Pitney murder," said Esposito.

"Okay, thanks. You guys continue what you've been doing and I'll go through the letters. They're in the conference room, right?"

"Yeah, sounds good, boss," and, "On it," were the resounding responses she heard from her detectives. She trusted her boys and they always got the job done. So with that, Kate picked herself up and went to scour the letters hoping to find some information that would link Castle's fans (or the man himself) to these senseless murders. But after going through the mail for what seemed like hours, she wasn't making any progress. Thank goodness for her phone choosing to buzz at that very moment though, distracting her from thoughts of paper cutting her way out of this mundane task.

_I'm thinking of you. Are you free for a maybe an hour to take a lunch break with me?_

Leave it up to Alex to know just when she needed a break. If she read one more letter that said, "Mr. Castle, I'm your biggest fan," or the more unusual one like, "Will you sign my chest?" she thought she'd punch a baby. _Okay, that's a little harsh Kate_. But man, Castle's fans really love him. For a man whose identity is unknown to the world, he really inspires people with his words. _Who am I kidding? His words helped me after my mother's murder_. But it was one thing to admire his work and another thing to reproduce it in real life.

The flashing light on Kate's phone signaled her attention back to the text she had yet to reply to. '_I could use a break. Where do you want to meet?'_ Kate sent back to Alex after some contemplation. She really shouldn't, considering how she came in later than usual today, but these letters will probably still be here when she comes back.

_Great! Why don't you pick the place so it's more convenient and closer for you to return to work? I'm teaching a later class today so I have more time to spare._

_How about Remy's? It's close by and they have amazing shakes._

_Sounds good. Can you text me the address? I'll see you there in maybe half an hour?_

After Kate sent Alex the address to the local joint, she told the boys she was going out for some burgers and promised to bring them back a few. They grumbled a bit but waved her off as they were preoccupied with some security feed which, from a glance on her way out of the conference room, looked like it was pointed towards the pool and a few scantily clad women were stepping in.

"Hey, we don't need both of you spying on those women. One of you go through the letters I started."

"Aww, come on Beckett. We weren't spying! Just going over evidence and timeline," Ryan whined.

"Dude, be cool," whispered Esposito.

"Call it what you will. But I expect to see more letters opened by the time I come back, so roshambo over who'll do it if you have to," Kate stated as she picked up her jacket and walked towards the elevators. Mumbled responses were what she heard as the doors closed but her mind had already moved on to her impromptu lunch date.

* * *

Alex sat waiting and ready at Remy's Diner. It may have been a little too cliché for him to say he was "in the neighborhood," but he wanted to see her again. So he looked up the 12th precinct where she mentioned she worked and took a cab over, hoping he wasn't being too presumptuous. He texted her from a coffee shop nearby, thinking that if she said she wouldn't be able to leave for lunch, he would bring some to her if it meant he could see her for a bit. Good thing she said yes; he did not want to try coming up with some excuse to get past cops who might be after him (or rather his alter ego) just to see his … _girlfriend? Could he call her that yet?_

His musings were interrupted when the object of his questions slid into the booth opposite of him and gave him the most enchanting smile he beheld.

"Hi."

Such a simple greeting but his heart was already soaring. "Hey, how was your morning?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

"It was good. Thank you for the gift by the way. I love it."

"Do you? Ahaha, I wasn't sure what you'd think, since I figured you would already have a copy. But I may have ruined that a bit when I scraped it against the floor after we tumbled, so I figured another copy couldn't hurt."

"No, yeah, it's fine. I can't enough Richard Castle."

"Really now?" His interest was immediately piqued. He had figured she was a fan—_why else would she be carrying his book around?_—but he didn't know to what extent she enjoyed his books.

"Yeah. He seems to be everywhere, with the case I'm working on, and stuff."

_Wait, what?_ That was not what he expected her to say. He'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't hoping she'd start gushing over his work but wait, her case. _No. It can't be. Is Kate the lead investigator for the case where Richard Castle is the person of interest?_

"Your case?" He tried to remain as neutral as possible, praying it's not as it seems. He knew what he was getting himself into when he decided to court an officer of the law, but he naively thought maybe, just maybe, the case was assigned to some other person, not _Kate_. _I mean seriously, how many detectives are there in New York?_ Apparently not that many because the signs were there; he should've put it together. Those were probably _case files_ that she held when he bumped into her; she was carrying around _Flowers for Your Grave_ as part of her _research_. How could he let his ego blind him into believing she was simply a fan?

"Yeah. Sorry, I can't say much. You know, confidential police business. Why don't we order some burgers and talk about something else?"

_How could he talk about something else when he just found out the person he's _dating(?)_ might want to put him behind bars._ Luckily for him, Kate's phone distracted her from his inner turmoil and she excused herself to pick up the call.

"Ryan? What's up?"

_Ryan? Wasn't that the name of the detective Gina spoke with? That's who he thought was in charge!_ Kate had turned away from him but she hadn't left the booth yet, so thankfully he was able to hear bits and pieces from her side of the conversation.

"What? You guys found it?"

_Found it? What is _it_?_

"Great job Ryan! I knew something would turn up in his fan mail. Okay, get that to the lab to see if they can pull some prints from it. I'll head back now."

_Prints? What prints? Who's prints? His own?!_ Alex sat there in silent panic, and quite frankly, he was a little surprised his detective didn't hear his racing heart or picking up on the sweat that was sure to be dripping from his forehead. _Maybe she's too excited about finding whatever evidence that was that would prosecute him for her to notice his subtle mental breakdown._

"Look Alex, I'm really sorry, I have to run. We may have just had a break in our case. Can I take a rain check? I'll call you tonight."

Kate was already out the door before he could say anything. But even if she could stay, he wasn't sure he'd know what to say to her. Here he was, hoping to share a meal with her—one they didn't even get to order—but instead, he just found his life flipped upside down, again. How could so much have happened beyond his control from when he got Gina's first call with the news of his apparent misdemeanor? _More likely a felony._

Alex sat immobile at the booth for a little while longer before skulking home to await his arrest. He knew it was too good to be true, for him to find such an amazing woman and for it to work out.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Wahhh, I start my first big girl job next week! I can't believe I'm already working after having just graduated uni a few months ago. DX So if I'm late with my next update, this is why. Gotta work to pay for the internet bill to upload these chapters. :P_

_Oh, to clear something up: I know a few of you had questions regarding the last chapter and why Alex thought he would get arrested when there were no evidence against him. I'm sorry I wasn't able to answer them until today but hopefully this chapter clears some things up. If not, here's just a little of how I see the story: Alex is a professor; he doesn't shadow Beckett like Castle does on the show. Though he may write about murder, he's still not exactly privy to the details of a murder investigation (particularly this one). The most he knows about the investigation is that there is someone out there aping his books and he thinks he's being framed. Even though he knows he's innocent and we know there are no evidence against him, he doesn't know that and truely believes Kate is investigating him, despite his logic and reason. In the last chapter, he was too overwhelmed with the thought that he was going to be arrested that he didn't consider the facts and how they could possibly have any thing of his tieing him to the scene(s). I'm sorry I didn't make that feeling more explicit but hopefully this chapter clears some things up. Please enjoy and thank you everyone for all your reviews! ^^_

* * *

**Chapter 10**

It was dark and stormy night. _No it wasn't_. But it sure felt like one in Rodger's head and heart, melodramatic prosaicism and all. Since his failed lunch date, Alex has been holed up in his study, waiting for his inevitable doom. _Stop it. How could _you_, and not fictional you, be implicated in this?_ He just couldn't wrap his mind around it—_I didn't do anything wrong!_—but knowing that he's innocent doesn't change the end of Kate's conversation that he overheard at the diner.

_They're gonna go arrest the guy and they think it's Richard Castle and that's me_. Alex couldn't bear to have Kate—_no, the police_—arrest him at work so instead he called in sick and gave instructions to his TA's to lead his lectures and seminars. But in hindsight now, maybe he should've just gone to work. He could have certainly used the distraction. His daughter was out with some friends—he even made sure to highly encourage her to consider staying over at her friend's house (so she might avoid witnessing his arrest)—and his mother, well she was probably at some stage production. Surprisingly, she still found a way to go out despite her leg in a cast and herself in a wheelchair. But either way, he had the whole loft to himself and his mind is started to spin a little out of control.

_Will Kate just call him already? She said she would right? Maybe he should call her? No wait, if they're arresting him, doesn't that mean she'll show up at his doorstep unannounced? Would she call ahead to warn him? No no, she can't do that; she could lose her job, especially if he made a run for it after she called. Oh, should he make a run for it? He has enough money; he knows enough people. But, oh god, what would Kate think? What _does_ Kate think? Would she think he's been using her? What—?_

The incessant buzzing on his desk must have jarred him from his internal monologue because he just snapped at the inanimate object vibrating on his desk. _Oh god. It's Kate isn't it?_

Glancing down at the caller ID, he let out a very loud sigh of relief. Only his mother.

"Hey kiddo," spoke the voice on the other end of the line.

"Mother. How can I help you?"

"Alexander, a little birdie told me she was almost kicked out and told not to come home until tomorrow so I just want to call and tell you not to wait up; I'll be staying with some friends tonight after the production. You can go ahead and invite that sweet detective of yours over without any interruptions from us."

Rodgers could almost hear the wink in his mother's voice as she spoke and tried very astutely to ignore that extra comment and its implications. _Oh she'll probably be coming over alright; but not for reasons I'd like her to. _But as much as he would like his mother to stay away, he was a little concerned about her, what with her recent accident and all. Besides, if he was arrested tonight, he wanted his mother to find the note he planned on leaving and make any arrangements necessary, not his daughter who would probably find it first if they both stayed out tonight.

"Mother, what about your leg? You should be taking it easy; I shouldn't have even let you go out tonight. I'm not asking Kate over, I just need to get some writing done."

He knew the writing excuse was feeble. They never bothered him before when he was writing; now shouldn't be any different, especially when he doesn't even have a book to write since he already turned in his last manuscript. He just hoped his mother wouldn't pick apart that logic.

"Oh, like I need your permission to go out. I'm just being courteous, son! And don't worry about me or that book of yours. Invite that detective over and have fun! Live while you're both still young. I am."

"But your leg—"

"It's fine. I have it covered. You deserve some happiness, Alexander. Go get some."

The double entendre in his mother's last statement was not lost on him but before he could form an adequate reply, the beeping on his phone alerted him to another call. His heart quickened when the name on the screen confirmed his suspicions. _It's Kate on the other line_.

"Look, mother, I have another call; I'll get back to you. Just, be careful please? And ... I love you."

Time to face the music. With the tap of his finger against the smartphone's screen, he switched phone calls and awaited his doom.

* * *

"Hey Alex! I'm sorry I ran out on you at lunch," Kate greeted the minute she heard Alex pick up her call. It was a long day at the precinct, but they did it. They cracked the case and caught the guy responsible for those three murders.

"Hi Kate." _Huh, was his voice softer than normal?_

"Trust me, if I could've stayed, I would've. Lunch with you sounds infinitely better than raiding some psycho's apartment."

"Excuse me?"

"Ahaha, yeah. Being a detective isn't all fun and games," she smirked. "Killers aren't as simple or easy as books make them out to be; sometimes we get people who are just disturbed. But the important thing is we caught our guy so that means I have all day off tomorrow after I finish the paperwork for my case. Let me make it up to you for today; are you free for lunch tomorrow?"

Kate wasn't really one to initiate dates, but she did feel genuinely bad for ditching Alex back at that diner. And the backward glance she gave him as she was exiting the place illustrated a guy who looked pretty heartbroken. _You had a job to do; you couldn't help it_. No matter how many times she told herself that throughout the day, she couldn't help but see his crestfallen face everytime she closed her eyes. So she decided, once they booked the guy—a Kyle Cabot from Brooklyn—she was going to call him and ask him out. With the murderer off the streets and her image of her favorite author intact, she had cause to celebrate; who better to do that with than Alexander Rodgers?

"You caught the guy?" There was a hint of incredulity in Alex's voice that Kate couldn't exactly place. She had just asked him out, and that's what he chose to focus on?

"Yeah. Is that a hint of doubt I detect? Are you questioning my abilities as a Detective, Professor Rodgers?"

"What? No! Never!" The high-pitched defense Alex gave made Kate's tease worthwhile. Maybe it was just all in her head.

"Good. Because trust me, you would not want me investigating your crime if you committed one."

"Ahaha," Alex awkwardly laughed. Sounds like she still knows how to make a guy quiver in fear. "So can you tell me about the bust? You can discuss your case now, can't you? Since you already caught the guy?"

"Well technically, the case is still open since we only just caught the guy today; I still need to finish off the paperwork for it before I can say it's officially closed. So, I still can't say much but let's just say, you should be rest assured that a murderer of three is off the streets of New York," Kate practically beamed as she told Alex that. She's never had a guy this interested in her work.

"Three?"

"Yeah. Our killer was killing people the way an author did in some of his books. In the end though, it was just some crazed fan who wanted to emulate his work. Good thing we caught him before he chose to show his _appreciation_ with more casualties," Kate explained, realizing Alex wasn't going to let it go. _Are all professors of literature this voracious for the finer details in things?_ "That's all I can tell you, Alex. Really. The fact I even said anything at all was a little too much. So what do you say to that date?"

"Haha, thank you detective. I would love to." Finally, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Great! I should be done before noon. What's your teaching schedule like?"

"I have a morning lecture and an afternoon seminar, but I'm free in between so noon works for me. I can pick you up from your precinct?"

"That's okay, I can come to you."

"What? Are you embarrassed your coworkers will see me?" It was cute that Alex was trying to tease her again. She had been a little worried when the phone call started off kind of somber, so she was glad he seemed to be back to his normal self.

"Fiiiine. I'll see you then. Have a good night, _Professor Rodgers_."

"Until tomorrow, _Detective Beckett._"

* * *

_He's off the hook?_ And yet, why did he not feel happy or satisfied? The police are no longer investigating him—they shouldn't have in the first place, he was totally innocent—but something didn't settle well with him. He didn't know what; it's just this gut feeling he had.

Shaking his head—honestly, he should really stop sticking his nose where it doesn't belong; they already caught the guy and it wasn't him—Alex finally decided to get out of his slump in his office chair and stretch his legs a bit. _Maybe get a glass of water_. After sweating bullets from the anticipation of his almost arrest, he most certainly feels dehydrated now. _And a little silly_. Really, how could he think Kate had his prints? He didn't even know about the murders, let alone been around one long enough to leave any fingerprints behind. _Three Alex, there were three bodies, not one_. And that's what surprised him. He knew there was the Tisdale murder and he suspected there may have been one before that, but he didn't know the police had up to three bodies. No wonder Gina was so worried for him; it was serious.

By the time Rodgers made it to his kitchen and was opening his refrigerator door, he was still in his head so he didn't hear the front door open to reveal his mother and daughter. It wasn't until they called out to him that he realized they had even come home.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Alexander, is everything alright?"


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Hi all. Sorry for the two week hiatus. My new job has been a little overwhelming, but things are starting to settle down a bit so hopefully I can go back to my regular updates. That said, I won't keep you any longer and I hope you enjoy the new chapter. All the feedback and responses I've recieved for this story as been amazing. Thank you. :')_

_Oh quick disclaimer: there's a short one lined poem I used in this chapter that isn't mine so I want to credit that author, "_Tru Baker_"(?). I hope you don't mind that I'm borrowing your beautiful words._

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"Ahaha, what are you two talking about?

Rodgers stood there uncertainly in his kitchen, refrigerator door still open and gaping, like him, at his mother and daughter. _Weren't they supposed to be out with their respective friends?_

"Dad, what's going on?"

Alexis was the first to break the ice. Instead, Rodgers felt like he just fell into the metaphorical frozen pond instead of staying afloat. Immediately, he glanced at his mother, who gave up any pretense of having kept his secret and wheeled herself to the living area.

"Alexander, I told her everything. You freaked me out when you hung up the phone but let's sit down before we converse further; my ass is killing me from sitting in this uncomfortable wheelchair all afternoon."

Silently, Rodgers closed the refrigerator door and set the bottled water in his hand on the counter before moving over to help his mother to the couch in the living area. After settling her into the single armchair, he took his seat next to his daughter on the couch.

"Oh Dad, please tell me you didn't do anything stupid. It was bad enough you stole that police horse those few years back, but this?"

"Alexis, I didn't do anything!"

"Darling please. We all know you didn't murder anyone, but it doesn't matter what we think. It matters what that dear detective of yours thinks. She _is _the one investigating this case, isn't she?"

"Yes, Mother, she is," Rodgers replied dejectedly. "But she just caught the guy, or so I heard."

"You don't sound very convinced, Dad."

"Alexander, don't you dare go poking your head where it doesn't belong. It's over now, right? Let it stay that way."

"It just doesn't make any sense. Everything that I know about this case, which is minimal, I promise you, tells me that something doesn't add up. It just seems too easy that for most of their case, they had no leads and were looking into Richard Castle then all of a sudden, some psycho pops up and that's their guy? It's so simple, it's almost cliché."

"Dad, are you just mad that you became the red herring? Come on, even your ego can't be that big."

"Seriously, Alexander. That made about as much sense as Mouse Trap. Ended up playing that about eight times a week for a year—I still have no idea what it's about."

"Grams is right, Dad. You're not making any sense. I think you should just put it to rest. And I would say be careful of Detective Beckett but if she's no longer investigating you, then it should be okay, but please? Just be careful."

Rodgers looked from his daughter sitting adjacent to him to his mother on the armchair perpendicular to their couch. Each had worried eyes that as yet still brimmed with hope and love. They would respect his decision, but it was clear what they hoped he would do. How could he stand to disappoint them?

"Thanks, both of you. I'm sorry for making you all worry."

"Don't sweat it, Dad," Alexis smiled back. "Besides, if I have to bail you out of jail any time in the near future, you're gonna to need to raise my allowance. By a lot."

"Mine too," chimed in Martha, ever astute for a money-making opportunity.

At that, Rodgers pulled both his favorite women into a much needed hug. It's been a long day, physically and emotionally, and to know that he has such support, well, he can't imagine being any luckier. Murder case be damned. His name is cleared; it's water under the bridge. His alter ego is still intact, and his love life is … well, subsisting. He saw no reason to make matters any more difficult on himself or his family by confronting Kate about her case. He may be disappointed as a writer, but maybe sometimes, it is the "butler" who killed the victim—or in this case, the psycho who went on a serial killing spree.

His mother and daughter remained in the living area a little longer, all enjoying a brief moment of peace and calm now that things were settled and out in the open. They chatted about this and that before all called it a night. Alex turned in immediately, walking off towards his bedroom with more peace of mind than when he left it. His daughter and mother on the other hand, while still cautious, gave each other one final look at each other and his retreating form before shrugging off the night and choosing instead to believe in him. They both trusted that Alex would make the right choices, and even if he didn't, they would still stand by him.

* * *

Kate came in bright and early the next morning, wanting to wrap up the case sooner rather than later so she could get a jump start on her partial day off. For once, she actually wanted to get out of the precinct earlier than normal, and she found herself completely okay with that thought. She liked Alex and it was about time she owned up to it without feeling guilty about it. She is _not _a workaholic. Much.

"Hey, Beckett. You're in early."

"You're one to talk, Esposito. Miss Ryan a little much?" she teased back. "I hate to break it to ya, but he isn't in yet."

"Oh ha ha, Beckett," scoffed Esposito as he walked over to the murder board beside her. "Glad this one is over huh? To think it was just some dude with a loose screw."

"Yeah …"

"Hey, you want me to start taking the board down?"

"Naw, it's alright. Leave it up for a little longer while I finish up the paperwork; it'd be nice to have the timeline reference."

"Sure, whatever you say boss. Oh hey, look at what the cat dragged in."

Kate looked up from the board long enough to see Ryan step off the elevator.

"Shut up, Esposito. What are you two doing in so early?" _Huh, Ryan must have heard them even being as far away as he was._

"Working hard, unlike a cer—"

At this point, Kate decided to cut in. "Just finishing up the case. Have a good night out with Jenny?"

"I did, Beckett. Thanks for asking." Ryan responded, almost with a tongue sticking out at Esposito.

Kate let Ryan have his moment for a bit before finishing her comment as she walked back to her desk. "Good. Then you won't mind staying a little later today cataloguing all the evidence for these three cases."

Even without turning, she could tell Ryan's jaw probably went a little slack while Esposito smirked back at him. Honestly, she didn't mean to give Ryan a hard time like everyone else seemed to, but he was just such an easy target sometimes. Despite working for homicide and dealing with all the cynicism in the world that comes with the job, Ryan still had such a boyish innocence about him that—if he wasn't such a little brother to her—she would call cute.

"I'm teasing, Ryan. No, you both deserve to clock out early today given all your hard work on this case. So let's get this paperwork done and get outta here, eh?"

"Yes Boss," and "You got it, Beckett," sounded back at her as she settled into her desk and pulled up all the papers she needed to get this job over with as soon as possible. She had a lunch date waiting for her.

* * *

Alex felt a little uneasy, riding in the elevator full of cops getting off and entering with each floor that he ascended. He had to constantly remind himself that the case was over and even if it wasn't, he promised his family he wouldn't get himself involved. But with each floor he climbed, his claustrophobia only heightened until he managed to stumble his way out onto the open bullpen that some assistant down in the lobby had told him would be home to his Detective Beckett.

Though uniforms and those in plain clothes milled about all over this floor too, the open space eased his heart rate a bit. It wasn't until he saw Kate sitting sublimely at her desk, diligently focused on her work, that his heart completely stopped. It never ceased to amaze him, regardless of how many times he saw her, how stunningly she arrested him. Though there aren't many windows where her desk is, in the middle of the office-like floor plan, light still managed to find her and accentuate her sharp jaw while softening her luscious brown locks. The woman was a contradiction but one he relished in solving, with her permission, of course.

Rodgers must have stood there for some time or breathed too loudly somehow, by the exit/entrance of the elevator, but regardless of what alerted him to her, he found himself now staring into the eyes of his detective, instead of her back. And the minute their eyes made contact, her lips subtly lifted into such a graceful smile that he couldn't help but return the sentiment with a broad grin of his own. From there on, his feet did all the work, and he found himself by her desk without consciously being aware of willing his body forward.

When he set the extra coffee cup he held in his hand on her desk, her eyes demurely dropped as she thanked him with a brush of her fingers against his. His gaze continued to be enthralled by her as she brought the cup up to her lips to sip delicately at the brown elixir. How someone can even sip so bewitchingly from a paper coffee cup is beyond him, but Kate Beckett pulled it off. _Oh how I envy the cup of coffee that gets to kiss your sleepy lips awake every cold and bitter morning …_

"Ahem, sorry Alex." _What? Is she speaking? He should probably be paying attention to the words coming out of her lips, not those said lips, huh?_ "I'm almost done with the paperwork. Just give me a few more minutes?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Take your time," he smiled back. He would be content to just sit here and watch her work.

"You can pull up a chair if you'd like. I won't take long, I promise." _Wow, apparently, Kate Beckett is also a mind reader. No wonder she makes such a great detective. _

"No, it's alright. Since you won't be taking long, anyways." Plus, he didn't know where he'd find a chair to pull up next to her desk and some other detectives across the way seems to giving him some very curious looks he's not sure he's comfortable with. There's a Hispanic detective that keeps smirking at him while nudging his partner(?), an Irish looking guy, that's steadfastly gossiping back.

"Ahaha, suit yourself then, Alex."

Seeing as how Kate had already placed her concentration back on her work (probably so she can get away from the prying eyes of her co-workers, not that he's complaining), Alex decided to have a look around the bullpen. It wasn't often that he got to walk into a police station and observe its activities so casually. Who knows, maybe he'll find the need to use something he saw here in his next novel.

And that's when he saw it, this white board with a detailed timeline and pictures strewn about with words/phrases scrawled here and there. He found himself drawn to what must be a murder board, with the captivating photos of what looks to be his murder scenes brought to life. Before he fully reached the board however, his path was blocked by the Hispanic detective he noticed earlier.

"Yo, Beckett. You might want to tell your new boy here not to mess with official police business."

"What-"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex heard Kate respond, but all that was registering to him were the pictures that came into fuller focus as he stepped closer. Again, that same gut feeling returned as he looked over all the photos on display here. _Something isn't right_.

"Your details are off on here."

Kate and the Hispanic detective must've been in a deep conversation or something when he interrupted them, because they apparently forgotten about him enough to be surprised when he spoke up.

"I'm sorry, what?" At least the Irish detective was polite enough to follow up with him when Kate and the Hispanic one continued to stare at him. Pretty soon, all three of them began to inch forward as they crowded around him and the murder board.

"Your details. They're off," he continued. "The roses on this girl's body, the one used in _Flowers for your Grave_? They're grandiflora, not hybrid teas. And this man should be suffocated by a plastic bag, not strangled with a necktie, if you're claiming it to be _Hell Hath No Fury_. And as for this last one, _Death of a Prom Queen_? Her dress should've been blue, not yellow."

"What are you talking about, Alex?" During his little speech, Kate must have gravitated towards him even further because now she's standing by his side as they both stare at the murder board.

"I'm just saying, these murders? They don't exactly follow the book. But you said your killer was some psychopath, right? I guess that wouldn't matter."

"Yeah, no, he has Pervasive Developmental Disorder…"

"PDD? For an obsessive, isn't it almost impossible for him not to get the details right?" _Oh he's meddling again, isn't he?_ But he couldn't help it. He knew his books, and if this killer was going to maim his work, the guy should at least do it with some honesty and keep the faith of his novels.

"I—no, you're right, Alex. I don't know what to say. But a Richard Castle fan huh? I wouldn't have pegged you for one," she teased.

"Ahaha, I'm a literature professor. I read all sort of works." Weak, he knew, but maybe Kate wouldn't read into that any further.

"Mhmm." Her noncommittal response seemed to show just that. Her focus now was entirely on the murder board in front of them.

"Naw. No, no no. Don't tell me this amatuer is getting to you. Beckett, really? We just wrapped this case," the Hispanic detective finally spoke up again.

"I know, Esposito but if you think about it, what Alex here is saying makes sense. And since I'm digging holes into our theory—Marvin Fisk first murdered, the guy from the diner, and then he kills Alison, his social worker. And then he kills Kendra Pitney, also from the diner?"

"So?" the Hispanic detective replied.

"So he starts with a murder of convenience, and then escalates to a murder of someone he knows very well and then goes back to a murder of convenience? It doesn't make any sense."

"Where are you going with this, Beckett?" the Irish one seems to catching on a little more quickly but he's still missing the main point.

And since Alex already made it this far, he might as well continue to share his thoughts. "Someone set up your guy—Kyle, was it?—to take the fall!"

The Hispanic detective didn't correct him on the name, only challenged him further. "Okay, smart guy, if it's not him then who was it?"

They were now beyond the point of introduction, Alex and these two detectives who, as he now saw, clearly worked with Kate. But he's on a roll so he just kept speaking as if these were his co-workers as well.

"From what I'm hearing Kate say, you're not looking for a serial killer, you're looking for a good ol' fashioned murderer, someone with motive. If this was a novel plot I was analyzing, the killer would've only wanted one of your victims dead. He would've killed the other ones just to cover up the crime. That's why Kyle is your perfect suspect. At three murders, you don't need to look for motive because mentally unstable serial killers don't have one. Your real killer had to have known both the intended victim and Kyle fairly well."

"Yeah, and the only victim who had any real knowledge of Kyle's obsessive condition would've been Alison Tisdale," Kate continued, almost excitedly. "Alison's the key; she's the one the killer is trying to hide."

"Well as far as we know, she wasn't seeing anyone, and none of her other case files fit the profile." The Hispanic detective was still trying to dissuade their logic from breaking down the case they already seemed to have closed but Alex could tell Kate was resolute. He definitely got to her. There was a determination dancing in her eyes that he had not yet seen, and admittedly, this side of her was _hot_!

"Well, somebody had to have known something about her." Alex could see that Kate had already changed her mind on the case and given the command her voice was beginning to take, he knew there was no stopping her. "Esposito, I want you to go back and look into Alison again. Go deeper this time and look into her family and history. Ryan, you check back into Richard Castle. He was the last lead we had; maybe he knows something about that letter we considered to be our breaking evidence. Heck, the guy writes murder mysteries for a living; what if he purposely slipped that letter into his fan mail for us to find?"

Both detectives were already returning to their desk, one grumbling a bit more than the other, when Kate turned to Alex and addressed him individually. He could already see the apology in her eyes before she spoke the words.

"Alex, I'm so sorry for doing this again, but I think lunch is going to have to wait, one more time. You were amazing, thank you for all your insights! But that means this case is back open so can I ask for your discretion here?"

Her eyes bore such sincere regret that there was no way he could fault her for wanting to see her work through. Hell, that little bit of rapport they built there while tossing theories back and forth really got his blood going and seeing Kate in her environment, well it was mesmerizing.

"Of course, Kate. I understand." _Really, he did_. "I guess I best be off then?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll call." Kate was already returning to her desk, leaving Alex with no choice but to walk off towards the elevators. Before he made it even a foot past her desk though, her hand reached out to still him. "Hey Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd make a great detective, if you ever had to quit teaching."

Kate was smiling, and that was probably the nicest compliment he'd ever had. Forget all the book reviews raving about his insight into the human psyche and the finer details of death, this one mattered more, simply because it came from her. He wanted really badly to lean down and brush his lips against hers but with the way her hand was rubbing circles against his wrist, he could tell this was probably the most physical she'd let it get at her place of work. So instead, he settled for taking her hand in his and giving her only what can be described as maybe the most intimate handshake ever.

"Thank you, Kate. I'll be waiting for your call."

And with that he walked off, leaving her to her work. It was only when he exited the elevator in the lobby and he cleared the precinct building that he recalled Kate's instructions to the Irish detective she called Ryan. He had been so caught up in the excitement of the case and all the theory building with Kate that it didn't click in his head immediately how she just asked Ryan to dig back into Richard Castle.

_Crap. So much for not prying._


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Sorry this is a day late. I wanted to make sure my beta had a chance to look over this chapter, especially, before it went up. Once again, thank you **annem57** for all your work, putting up with my tense changes and all. Also, a thank you to **wolfergirl** for the suggestion that led to the main action in this chapter; your request really made this chapter happen._

_One quick last shout out, this chapter is dedicated to a friend, "LJ," who's birthday is today. I don't know if you'll ever read this, and I know our friendship has been distant these many months, but I do care for you still. Happy birthday, and I hope you can reflect on our friendship with fondness._

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"So Beckett, you wanna tell us who that was?"

Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan were both looking at Kate expectantly. She knew having Alex stop by the precinct was maybe not the brightest of ideas where her nosy co-workers were concerned, but was it too much to expect them not to tease her about her … _boyfriend? Can she call him that?_

"None of your concern, Espo!" When Kate noticed Ryan snickering in the background, she added, "Nor yours, Ryan. Get back to work!"

"Oh, come on Beckett, tell us!" Esposito implored.

"Yeah! Is he gunna be our new daddy?" Ryan jumped in.

"Dude, too far."

"What?!"

"Seriously though, Beckett, who is the guy? Do we, uh, need to have the 'talk' with him?" Esposito implied, complete with air quotes.

It wasn't often that she brought her personal life to work, or allowed it to make itself known to her co-workers, so she was touched by the sentiment. She was touched by the loyalty and consideration of her boys. Not that they didn't believe she could take any man on if she needed to, but that they had her back without her even needing to ask.

"Don't worry, guys, I'm sure I can handle him," Kate replied, a bit softer than she might. "Where are we on the case?"

"Well, considering that you only gave us our new instructions a moment ago, not very far," responded Ryan. "I'm still looking into Black Pawn, but I think with our new theory and some pressure, I can probably break them. Just give me a little bit of time, and I'm sure I can get them to give us the name of their illustrious author."

"Thanks Ryan. Esposito? Where you at?"

"Just doing what you asked, boss. Not sure what else we'll find on Alison though."

"Look into her family. Does she have any siblings? Double check her financials. Come on, Espo, you know the drill."

Esposito grumbled off his response but he still dutifully followed her orders. Kate sat at her desk a moment longer before deciding she needed to get up and do something, or speak to someone, to release the new adrenaline she built from their new theory. Sure it meant more work and a bit of mundane rechecking of facts, but she was finally connecting with the case now. So she called off to her boys that she was going down to visit Lanie, the ME assisting with their case, and update her about their refocus to Alison.

Kate was already halfway to the elevator when she finished her announcement; their non-committal responses were only heard after the elevator doors closed. It's been too long since she's gone to see the ME, though in reality, it hasn't even be a full week since they last saw each other at the crime scene of their latest body. _But oh, the things that happened in just this one week alone_. There was more than the case that Kate needed to update her ME best friend on.

* * *

When Kate entered the morgue, as always, everything was deathly silent. How Lanie could stand to work in such a place, Kate had yet to understand. Don't get her wrong, she loved the occasional peace and quiet now and again but the majority of the time, she wanted loud—precinct loud and chaotic. She liked the hustle and bustle, the thrill of cracking a case; she liked feeling productive. Not that medical examiners weren't productive, but the lethargic and still atmosphere here definitely slowed her down a notch and asked her to be more careful and detailed in her respect for the place.

"Hey, girl! Whatcha doing down here?" Lanie Parish exclaimed the minute she heard her double doors open to the detective she always delighted in seeing.

"Oh, I just wanted to talk to you about that case we're working on."

"You mean the case you just closed?"

"Yep, the very one," Kate beamed.

The amused look on the ME's face told her she didn't mind the interruption at all. Instead, the African American medical examiner seemed to welcome it as she set down her scalpel and turned away from the cadaver on her table to give her full attention to Kate.

"Okay, so what's up?"

Kate knew it wasn't just the case the ME was asking about. The last time the two of them had a proper 'girl talk' was, well, probably two weeks ago when Lanie came over to rant to her about the latest guy she was with and how he was giving her grief for her job. As if that was something Lanie or Kate could change. In fact, this was probably what brought the two together in the first place—solidarity as women in a male-dominated world with outsiders who can't or won't understand why they actually like their professions.

"Nothing much. But that case you're speaking of? It's back open."

"How so, if I may ask?"

"Oh, my boyfriend stopped by and pointed out some flaws in our logic so we decided to reopen—or rather, not yet close—our case."

Kate figured nonchalance was the best way to broach the subject and she was right. Lanie's shocked expression was definitely worth the feigned normality at the subject. She still wasn't sure if it was appropriate for her to as yet call Alex her boyfriend, but that was much easier to say than "the-man-she's-dating-but-really-have-only-had-one -date-with-yet-she's-already-met-his-mother-and-da ughter-but-they-have-yet-to-define-things." _Yeah, definitely a mouthful._

"What?! Since when? How did this happen? Wait, WHO?!"

"Whoa, slow down Lanie," Kate chuckled as she took in her overly excited friend. "One at a time."

At that, her friend made sure to take a calming breath before beginning her barrage of questions. "Okay, first off. How did this start and where did you meet him?

"Well, remember how this case started? That initial rush when we made the connection of the Tisdale body to Fisk's and realized they were a recreation of Richard Castle's novels?"

"Of course. How could I forget? Those crime scenes were downright weird; they could only have come out of murder mystery novels."

"Seriously, given the amount of scenes we've both been to, it's amazing anything could still shock us."

"You're preaching to the choir, honey."

"Right, right. Anyways, that next morning after we discovered the Tisdale body, and we couldn't get in touch with the man behind Richard Castle, I decided to go to the NYU library."

"Oh, I remember that place. You go there when you stress over a case right? How long has it been since you've been back?"

"Apparently long enough because I totally didn't recognize some of the new professors they've hired."

Kate let that sink in a bit before the realization dawned on her friend's face.

"No. Really? He's a university professor?!" At Kate's nod, Lanie continued, "Oh my god—a man of knowledge," she sighed. "What subject does he teach?"

"English Literature to undergraduates and graduate students."

"Hotttt. Wait. Is HE hot?"

"Need you ask?" Kate had to laugh at her friend's priorities in what she chooses to ask. "Ahaha, no yeah, he's definitely good looking. I might even say, ruggedly handsome? And he's pretty young too, for a professor. Not at all your stuffy, bookish type."

"Oh Kate, he sounds perfect for you. How exactly did you two meet again? So at the NYU Library … ?"

"Yeah, we ran into each other, literally. He was coming out, as I was heading in, and he caught me in this amazing dip before I fell."

"That sounds dreamy."

"It was."

There was no calling Kate back now, as she stared off with that faraway look in her eye, reminiscing about her initial meeting with Alex. Telling the story to Lanie now made their relationship seem somehow more real. Even though they hadn't defined it with each other, she's pretty sure he can feel it too—that blatant attraction and pull when they're around each other. In sharing with Lanie this new part of her, there is no going back. There are people now who would ask if anything progressed or not; more people besides herself to hold her accountable.

"Kate, what's his name?"

It took Kate a moment to realize her friend was addressing her but when she was finally aware that someone needed her attention, the buzzing of her phone drew her focus away to the inanimate object she pulled out of her jacket pocket. Giving Lanie a quick apologetic look, she promptly proceeded to answer her call.

"Beckett," she greeted, not bothering to look at the caller ID. For most of her contacts, that acknowledgement is sufficient enough to get them to their point and if she didn't know her caller, they're always quicker to introduce themselves afterwards.

"Hey, Boss," reciprocated the voice that sounded like Ryan. "I got in touch with Black Pawn and told them this time we have a warrant for information on 'Richard Castle.' Told them the situation's changed and we have further evidence that may implicate their author so we need to know his name."

"Alright, give it to me. And his address. Let's go bring this guy in for a long overdue questioning."

"His name is Alexander Rodgers. He lives in Manhattan at … "

The rest of Ryan's statement was lost on Kate as the name rung in her ears, reiterating itself as it bounced along each bend and curve. Kate must have said something to end the phone call with Ryan because she doesn't even remember when or how the phone ended up back in her jacket pocket.

"Kate, honey, are you okay?"

Kate looked, unseeingly at Lanie, who stood before her, eyes full of concern and curiosity. Curiosity at what? Oh right, they were just talking about the man she's been seeing. And his name. Oh god, his name. He's … Richard Castle is …

"His name is Alex Rodgers."


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Yay! _Castle_ returned this week from their summer hiatus! And here's a new chapter update. _Castle_ is just everywhere this week. ;)_

_Once again, thank you to all those who've been following and reviewing my story. I'm sorry I haven't had the time and won't tonight to reply to your reivews or private messages, but I promise to do that as soon as I can. :) And **lv2bnsb1**, I'm sorry it took me so long but I finally got around to fulfilling your request. _

_I hope you all enjoy this chapter. ^^_

* * *

**Chapter 13**

It was a Friday afternoon and Alex was feeling pretty good about himself. He just helped the police break a case wide open. _And that thrill._ That rush of working with Kate to build theories and bounce ideas off each other. It was one thing to write about the fast thinking his characters engage in, but completely another when he had the opportunity to participate in the repartee himself. _It was exciting_.

The rest of the afternoon after the precinct actually found Alex in front of a computer screen typing furiously away before he had to get ready for his afternoon seminar with his graduate students. Never did he expect to get back into the groove so soon after the death of Derrick Storm—_he hasn't even had the time to mourn his passing!_—but after his encounters with Detective Beckett, he found the threads of a story kept weaving together in his head. And given his little taste of police procedure and conjecture? Well, let's just say his interest was most definitely piqued.

Alex was still working away at his potentially new novel when a sound at his door interrupted his rapid thoughts and halted his speeding fingers. Without looking up, he shouted out permission for his visitor to enter his tiny corner office deep in the English department slightly off the main campus at NYU.

"Hey Dad,"

Upon hearing the voice of his little girl, did he finally raise his head. Though his head was still spinning with plot lines and dialogues yet unspoken, for his daughter he would always lay them aside for a moment with her.

"Alexis! What a surprise. What are you doing here?" Alex exclaimed as he closed his laptop, and sat straighter to give his daughter his full attention.

"I wanted to see how you were doing?" Alexis replied, from her place by his door, before shyly adding, "And maybe ask about how your lunch with Detective Beckett went."

"Ahaha, well come on in honey. I have a class to head towards soon but that won't stop me from seeing my favorite daughter."

At that, Alexis scoffed a bit but still smiled as she turned to shut the door before walking over to the seat placed in front of her father's desk.

"Come on, Dad. I'm your only daughter."

"Be that as it may, my statement still stands. But hey, why aren't you in school missy?"

"Dad, stop avoiding my questions. It's already 4. Classes finished at least an hour ago."

"There's no getting around you, is there?" Alex chuckled. Sometimes, he wondered how his daughter ever got to be so much more serious and mature than he. There was no getting around her. "Okay okay. Uhhh, lunch didn't happen with Kate."

"What? Why?"

"Honey, please don't be mad?"

"Dad! Please tell me you didn't do something stupid. Murder investigation aside, I kind of like her!"

"Really, sweetie? You do?"

"Yeah, Dad, I do. She's different. Not like the other women you've dated before, and definitely not like your ever popular female fans who ask for 'signed chests.'"

"Never letting me live that one down huh? It was only in a fan letter!" When his daughter didn't seem to buy his offence, he just rolled with the punches. "Haha, fine, yeah, that one I didn't mind so much. But Kate, she's definitely something. For once, I've actually found someone who can come up to me and say something new."

"So, Dad, what happened with lun—"

Alexis was cut off by the sound of another knock on the door. Unlike his daughter however, this intruder into Alex's office didn't wait to hear him shout back, "come in," before entering. Nor did said person wait to check if he was occupied or not, for his new visitor spoke without pretense.

"Professor Rodgers? Your class is about to start soon and one of your graduates students mentioned they—"

Out of respect to his daughter, Alex decided to cut off the teaching assistant to his seminar that evidently, he must be late to. "Jane? Thank you. I understand. I'll leave momentarily."

"But Professor—"

The swift glance Alex gave towards his daughter finally registered in his TA that he had company. Blushing slightly but recovering quickly, the cute 20-something brunette apologized sincerely before leaving with the promise to ready the class for his appearance.

Looking back at his daughter, Alex gave her a look of apology of his own as he stood to gather his things, laptop and papers all jammed into one bag. "Alexis, honey, I'm sorry. Looks like I have to go, but hey, thanks for stopping by. I don't want to keep you waiting so why don't you go on home first and I'll see you then?"

"Sure, Dad, but don't think you were saved by the 'bell!'"

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it." Alex laughed as he shouldered his bag with one hand and wrapped his arm around his daughter with the other. He kissed his daughter's head before sending her off down the hall towards home. Locking his office door quickly after Alexis walked away, Alex proceeded to his graduate seminar to discuss the fine workings of Austen and her revolutionary contribution to English literature.

* * *

"Turn to page 394—I mean, 194. Sorry."

As Alex waited for his students to take out their copies of _Pride and Prejudice_, he put on the reading glasses that he rarely used. But after typing furiously away at his computer since he returned from the precinct, his eyes needed a little more help given all their previous strain from staring at a computer screen.

Alex gathered his materials and went to sit within the circle of his students, facing them as they all faced each other. With a class of only ten or so students, Alex was lucky enough to be able to run his classes as he liked, full of discussion and analysis while just sitting around and talking.

"So class, what do you think is the importance of social class in this novel, especially as it impacts the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy. By this point in the novel, do you believe he is truly a changed man?"

"I think social class is of the utmost importance in this novel but of course that's a given, professor," replied one of Alex's students, a boy by the name of Nathan. "It's built into the very first sentence of the novel: 'it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.'"

"Alright then, Nathan, since you pointed that out, let's deconstruct that first sentence. We all know how important a first sentence is to a novel. It's the first thing a reader will read and if the reader abandons the work even a page in, it'll be the only thing they ever read. 'Call me Ishmael,' 'it was the best of times, it was the worst of times,' or even the ever popular. 'it was a dark and stormy night"-all these quotes, you know of them, correct?" Alex didn't bother to wait for agreement before he continued with his point, "Whether or not you recognize that first quote from _Moby Dick_ or the second one from Dicken's _Tale of Two Cities_, those words have stuck with us long after the rest of the book has been devoured. What about Austen's first sentence strikes a chord with her audience that it repeats itself in modern time today?"

Alex didn't have to wait long before another one of his students spoke up. Unlike discussions with undergraduate students, his grad students aren't taking his classes to simply fulfill a GE requirement or because they feign an interest in the matter. These students actually enjoy the English language and literature and all combinations thereof.

"Well, Austen's first sentence, though a comment on social class, also indirectly touches on gender roles and how women (versus men) are viewed," spoke a girl by the name of Molly. At Alex's silent attention, she continued, "A successful women back then was someone who could find a husband. She would move from her father's home into her husband's—always under the jurisdiction of a male."

"I agree," another student, Susan, jumped in. "Which is interesting, because even though Austen was such a revolutionary woman for her time, providing for her own means through her writing, she still had to play by the rules of society and it shows in her writing."

It's like the floodgates opened because soon, everyone was just jumping in, moving from one topic to the next.

"Mhmm, yeah, Susan, you definitely have a point there. It's funny that even though she writes of satires regarding her society, she was still a victim of its machinations. She couldn't even publish her first novel under her name for fear of the reception she would receive," another student, Seamus, mentioned.

"Oh, come on Seamus. That could've just been a publicity ploy," rebutted a boy by the name of Jon. "Take that Richard Castle fella. I bet you his books wouldn't be half as popular as they are if we knew who the man behind the book is."

"Jon, you're comparing modern society to early 19th century England. That's not a fair comparison and you know it," Molly argued back. "It actually is acceptable for women to work for a living now, but even so, it's still a male dominated culture. Take JK Rowling for example. Her publisher told her she shouldn't use her real name because the Harry Potter series wouldn't be as popular with the boys if it was penned by a woman. So she took on 'JK,' even though she doesn't have a middle name, to make it more ambiguous to a casual reader."

Alex was so caught up in the discussion his students were having, moving from his original question yet somehow still retaining the essence of it, that he failed to hear the buzzing of his phone in his shoulder bag. It always fascinated him when his students brought up his alter ego, especially when the novel in discussion was so far from modern murder mysteries. However, if he was less involved in his students, like any careless professor, he would have noticed that was the fifth missed call in a row he was receiving from his publisher. Gina had just got off the phone with that Detective Ryan where he mandated she tell him the true identity of Richard Castle and against her better wishes, she finally had to give up that knowledge.

If only Alex had looked into his bag for just a moment, and found his phone, Gina would have told him that the police are on their way to pick him up. Instead of having discussions whereby his students were defending his alter ego, he's about to face a very real interrogation where he must defend his alter ego himself.

So, imagine Alex's surprise when the doors to his seminar room opened up to a Detective Beckett, flanked by the Irish and Hispanic detective he recognized from the precinct. The two detectives stayed by the doorway, probably to block his escape if he attempted one, but his mind was so far away from that conclusion. All he could focus on was Detective Beckett—_Kate_—who kept her determined stride towards him. _Did she look a little angry?_

The room had already hushed down at the sight of the detectives filling the entryway; all eyes were directed towards the detective that continued to walk purposefully towards the professor in charge of the seminar.

Kate stopped immediately before Alex and coldly uttered the very words he never wanted to hear, especially not in front of his students, "Alexander Rodgers? We need to ask you some questions about Richard Castle and a murder that took place earlier this week."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Quick mentions, _**TORONTOSUN**_, I hope this chapter fulfils that request of yours and _**ShannonJethroGideonCastleSnape**_, I really tried to make your little request work here too. _

_For everyone else, thank you, once again for all your support and I must apologize again, I will be late in my replies to your reviews this time around too. I promise to get to them, and any and all private messages, as soon as I can, so please bear with me. To everyone who followed or favorite this story, thank you to you too. You're all amazing, each and every one of you. :)_

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Like the tick of a clock, once noticed, it's hard not to hear every single tick as the seconds rigidly pass by. _Tick. Tick. Tick. Richard Castle. Alexander Rodgers. Richard Castle. Castle. Rodgers. Castle. Rodgers?_

Ever since Kate heard the news, those names were all she heard. Over and over again. Like a stock ticker, the names were displayed on repeat, personal only to her mind's eye. It was her own private hell; she didn't know what to think. What _was _she supposed to think? The man she was seeing just turned out the be the main suspect in her murder investigation. Not that he was ever really a suspect—more like a person of interest—but how could she stop from seeing or treating him as such now? Yes, he may have been super sweet to her, but hey, even the coldest of killers played with their prey before they feasted. Was that what she was? If not the next victim in his deranged little game of reality reenactment, at least a source of intel on the police investigation against him?

Alex was the man she saw leaving the Tisdale building. There was an envelope with the image of a black pawn, that was, obviously now, from the illustrious publishing company that protected Richard Castle. That book he gave her for their first date—_oh god_. But, no, the one that probably irked her the most, besides all that, was how he taunted them by helping them reopen his case. It was like he was telling them they weren't good enough detectives, almost letting him get away, that he had to point out the flaws in their case. No wonder his knowledge on the Castle books was so detailed—he wrote them!

And now, here he sat before her in the sterile interrogation room, staring her down. For a man about to face a murder charge, he did not seem very surprised. _Well of course not, he probably did it_. But no, that's not it either. In fact, he seemed rather ... _indignant?_

* * *

_How dare she?_ Yes, in the back of his mind, he kind of knew this was coming. Oh, who was he kidding, he had this coming since Gina first called with the news. If there was anything to be surprised about it, it was how long it took the police to finally get to him. For NYPD's finest—no matter how much he may not like Kate at the moment, he would always consider her New York's finest—they sure took a while to figure out it was him. He could've killed a good number of people by now.

_No, Alex, what are you doing?_ Why was he acting this way? He didn't do anything wrong! How often did he have to reiterate that to himself? And yet, why was he acting all offended as if he had committed those murders?

_It's because she really believes he did it._

That little voice in his head won't shut up. As much as he told himself the truth, there was that part of him that was scared Kate didn't believe him or won't believe him—not that he ever had the chance to explain himself. And so, no matter how many times he tried to console himself or how many times his mother and daughter may have said otherwise, he still doubted himself. Though their courtship was short and fast, he had hoped she learned about who he was and would understand that there was no way he could have committed these acts she's accused him of. The fact that she didn't believe him, despite all the time they spent together this week, hurt. He thought she understood him. _I guess I was the only one who was feeling that connection._

* * *

"Yo, what's Beckett doing?" Esposito asked his partner Ryan, from behind the one way mirror in the observation room adjoining the interrogation room.

"I don't know. They're both just kind of staring at each other. I'm not sure what either is thinking," Ryan responded.

"I just can't believe that guy in there was the guy Beckett was with earlier today."

"They're not an item, are they?"

"That guy better hope she didn't consider them an item. 'Cause if he hurts Beckett? He'll be dead meat before he knows it."

Ryan enthusiastically agreed in response. Both men stared back, determinedly, through the mirror, hoping to see if there's a break in the standstill. If that Alexander Rodgers in there did anything that might even be considered hostile, well, they got their boss's back in an instant.

* * *

Kate had decided; she would not be the first one to break. Sure, they may have been sitting here a good five minutes, probably, in complete silence, but she would not be the first one to give in. If he ever really cared for her, he should be busting his chops right now, trying to explain to her what the hell is going on. Because in these few minutes and the many that led up to their time here, she still could not make sense of how the man that is central to her case, is the same person she had been seeing romantically all week long.

How could the man who took her on the most enchanting dinner she's been on yet, be the same person that murdered three in cold blood? How could this same man who was so sweet and caring with his mother and daughter, also be the guy who attempted to put all the blame on some innocent, mentally unstable boy that, due to his very mental capabilities, can't even defend himself? How could these two people, so distinct in names and personalities, possess one body?

Unfortunately for Kate, as much as she would have liked to carry on their silent staring contest, she knew she had to get started on the interrogation. It won't be long before his lawyer showed up, and sooner rather than later, she wanted—no, needed—him to spill his guts before his attorney shut him down.

* * *

"You've been informed of your rights, Mr. Castle. You have the right to an attorney; if you cannot afford one, we will provide one for you."

"My name isn't 'Mr. Castle,' it's Rodgers. Alex Rodgers. You know that. And I have an attorney. He will be here shortly."

Looks like Kate was the first to break their tête-à-tête. But given that introduction of hers, he immediately regretted dismissing the opportunity to speak first. He stayed silent out of respect for her, and possibly in hopes that she would drop the whole hard detective act and just speak to him like he was used to, but it looked like that was out of the picture. Her words just brought back all the hurt and more.

He got that she was probably pissed at him—after all, who wouldn't be if the person they were dating turned out to be a person of interest in a murder investigation—but that was low, what she did. He was _not_ Richard Castle, and he resented that implication of hers, especially in front of his students. _Oh, god, his students_. At least she had the decency to merely reference his alter ego in front of them, unlike here where she blatantly called him out by that name. But those kids are a smart bunch. Their curiosity would be piqued and he's sure it won't take much for them to connect the dots.

_How could she do that?_ There was a reason why he didn't want people to know that he was the man behind the Richard Castle image. He spent years developing his credibility as a professor of literature, and though he was no Indiana Jones or Robert Langdon—he was by far a renowned expert—he was still a respected academic individual. He created the Richard Castle persona to give himself the freedom to engage in his hobby while also remaining the anonymous professor beloved by his students for whom he was an average person, not the apparently famous novelist. He wanted his students to take his classes for him, not whatever he may be if they saw him only as a mystery novelist.

"Well, until your lawyer arrives, you care to explain to me why you murdered Alison Tisdale?" demanded Kate Beckett, the serious detective before him. If he saw any hurt in her eyes at his betrayal, he only responded to the anger that was flaming on the forefront.

"Alison Tisdale? You honestly can't believe I had anything to do with that. I didn't even know the girl!"

"Really? You really expect me to believe that? Here, why don't I spin a _story _for you that sounds a little more likely," the way Kate spat out the word story almost had him cringing but his blood was starting to boil too much for him to respond to that. "I think, you noticed her as a grad student at NYU, part of the social work program. Maybe you fancied her but she said no to your advances. So what, couldn't take the rejection, _Alex_? So used to women just falling for your charms that the rejection stung just a little too much? You tried to forget about her, maybe with your writing, but then probably realized that this was one plot point you can't write away. So why not just delete it from existence? You already have the perfect cover. Even if they suspect Richard Castle, no one would know it was you."

"You're wrong," Alex interjected. He was furious now. It was one thing for her to conjecture and throw his "Castle" name in his face, but it was another thing for her to make such flagrant speculation. She's hurt, he got that, but to call him, in essence, a cheater and a liar? He would not stand for that. If she doesn't believe in him, even after their week together, then fine. But he will not have her believe otherwise, that he's some scum who just picks up any woman he _fancies_. "That is not how it is and you know it, Kate."

"It's Detective Beckett to you," Kate quietly responded, losing a bit of her steam for a reason Alex can't quite put his finger on. But as soon as that appeared, it was replaced with anger again. "Well, if that's not it, why don't you clue me in on what it really is."

"Dammit, Kate, how should I know?!" Even though she corrected him, she would always be just _Kate_, the soft woman he grew to really care for. "Don't you believe me? After our week together, do you really think that little of me? Like I'm some playboy who might respond to an interrogation like this with, 'I'd be happy to let you spank me'?"

"I don't know Alex, you tell me!"

"I _am _telling you, Kate—that isn't me. I didn't do this, whatever this is."

"And why should I believe you, huh? Considering that you make up stories for a living."

"Richard Castle is not all I am and you know that. You know me, Kate. Or at least I thought you did but I guess our relationship must have been a lie."

"Are you kidding me? You're actually bringing this up right now? After you've told me you just betrayed me by admitting to your Richard Castle persona?"

"Kate, listen to me—"

"Listen to you? Why should I listen to you? How am I even supposed to trust anything that you say?"

"How are you—. Because of everything we've been through this week! Sure it wasn't much—not like we were trapped in a freezer or faced off a bomb—but dammit Kate, I thought this week meant something. I am _more _than Richard Castle. If that means anything to you, if you care for me at all, please believe me."

"If I care about you? You and I have nothing to do with this case and quite frankly, I can't believe you used me like that."

What was Alex supposed to say now? How was he supposed to respond to a comment like that? He wasn't getting through to Kate and honestly, he was starting to feel the anger deflate out of him. All that's left was bitter disappointment and a near broken heart.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Kate. I—"

Before Alex could say much else, the door to the interrogation room opened and in walked Alex's attorney. He hasn't needed to employ the services of his lawyer for much, but he's been around the man long enough to know when to shut up when he walks into the room. There was probably already a mouthful from his lawyer waiting for him when he left the interrogation, given how talkative he's been since he was brought in.

"Detective," nodded the lawyer in acknowledgement before turning to Alex. "I'm sorry it took me this long to get to you, just some minor complications with my associate. But now that I'm here, I must advise you to not say another word."

"It's okay Harvey. Thank you for coming."

"Of course," replied the finely tailored lawyer, complete in his expensive three piece suit. "Now Detective, unless you have any concrete evidence that Mr. Rodgers is complicit in your case, we are done here."

"As a matter of fact, I do." The folder that Alex didn't notice until now was lifted before Kate as she took out some photos to spread out on the interrogation table before them. "This is an image taken from the security cameras inside Jonathan Tisdale's building and we have a witness who can identify his presence there. If your client really has no involvement in our case, then why was he seen in the Tisdale building immediately after the murder of Alison Tisdale?"

Alex had no idea how they got a hold of that image—well, he probably had some idea—but he was more surprised that they even knew he went to visit Alison's father. That morning seemed like such a distant memory now and considering how nothing came to fruition after his questioning, he must have blocked it from his recollections. But with the looks his lawyer was giving him, it was like he just grew another head. He had to explain himself now, though it may be against his better judgment to do so.

"Hey I can explain. I just wanted to speak to the guy on some real estate but seeing as he's dying, I figured—"

Both Kate and his lawyer decided to speak at the same moment, cutting Alex off, but the voice he listened to was Kate. His lawyer was telling him to shut up and not say another word, but he needed to make Kate understand and she was finally asking him the right questions, ones he could answer.

"Who do you mean? Jonathan Tisdale? What makes you think he's dying?" demanded Kate.

"Well, those photos in his office … he's much thinner now. Like sick thin, not work-out thin."

"His daughter was just murdered!"

"He kept touching his hair though, like he was self-conscious."

"It was a piece?"

"It was a good one. But it's new to him. The chemo's relatively recent. And he was wearing make-up."

"He's trying to look healthier than he is."

Alex could see Kate was giving him some consideration. His lawyer was giving him a mean glare, telling him to shut up but he was finally getting somewhere with Kate, he didn't want to give up now.

"Maybe he probably didn't want shareholders to know," he bantered back, building the same rhythm they had before their whole affair turned sour.

"So he's got cancer; that doesn't mean he's terminal."

"But it would make more sense if he was. I thought you already knew all this about Tisdale. Did you interview the brother?"

"There was never a reason to …"

And right then, he knew he got her. Kate quickly excused herself from the room, during which his attorney mumbled something along the lines of how he could've better spent his time if he left this to his associate, Mike, what with Alex ignoring everything he said and blabbing his mouth off.

It felt like hours but really, only a few minutes passed before Kate returned with some paperwork, saying his family was there to pick him up. Alex tried to catch her eye, and see if their little theory building session had any effect on her, or if she still considered him a suspect, but Kate was studiously avoiding his gaze. She quickly left the room after she handed off the paperwork to his lawyer, and then Alex was left alone to his thoughts and a lawyer who was billing him hundreds just for these few seconds to read over the basic paperwork.

* * *

Martha and Alexis was waiting for him out by the elevators, when he finished signing every document his lawyer put in front of him. He didn't see Kate for the rest of the time he was in the precinct, but by the time his family came into the picture, he had to push all else from his mind. No matter where he stood with Kate at the moment, it was more important to him that his family was okay and no harm came their way from this little development.

When he swept his daughter into a crushing hug, she returned the favor with just as much fervor. For an instant, he felt comforted, as if all the weight has been lifted off his shoulders, what with Kate knowing his secret and all. But the minute he stepped off the elevators and out the lobby towards the steps outside, the camera flashes reminded him that the rest of the world now knows his secret too.

_Oh well. It was fun while it lasted_.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: I don't have much to say here except enjoy! ^_^ oh and brownie points to all those who caught the _Suits_ references. If not, don't worry, they're in this chapter too. ;)_

* * *

**Chapter 15**

The taxi cab ride back to his loft was only a momentary relief: a quiet lull before the storm of reporters picked up again outside his building. When they assaulted his family outside the precinct, thrusting microphones and cameras in his face, at least there were some officers around who helped to hail him a cab and usher him in, along with his mother and daughter. But now, as his building loomed ever nearer, he could already see the reporters all lined up from the building all the way up to the curb.

Alex knew Richard Castle had quite a reputation in the murder mystery world, but never in his wildest dreams would he have expected this much attention. If he wasn't so concerned about getting his family back home safely, he would almost feel flattered that someone like him, just a novelist and by no means a "movie star," would get this much recognition. He wished his lawyer would've said something before hailing a separate cab back to his own office once they cleared the precinct steps.

Thank goodness that he had the foresight to call for a security detail to be at his place though, given all the difficulties he had leaving the precinct. Without them, he didn't know how else the sea of reporters would've been parted—he was no Moses and the words he wrote were anything but prophetic. But in all seriousness, those reporters were relentless. Not for a minute did they even stop to consider that his mother was in a wheelchair, or that his daughter was still just barely a teenager. They just kept coming, shouting out question after questions—"Mr. Rodgers, why all the secrecy?"; "Is this a publicity stunt?"; "Are you really the famed Richard Castle?" .

As intimidating as their security details were—all in dark shirts and jeans, with burly arms and formidable auras—the reporters were still fearless, pushing forward to try and get the best angle of him for an article that really, would better serve as a homeless person's fire kindling than reading material. It was brutal—that short trip from the cab to his building—but after an unnecessary amount of time, Alex was finally able to cross the threshold into his home sweet home. All he wanted to do from then on was to just shut out the world and retreat to the comfort and solitude of his bedroom. But unfortunately, it would seem his mother and daughter had other plans.

"Oh kiddo, how are you holding up?"

"How could Kate do that to you?!"

Alex had started walking towards his bedroom, but upon hearing the voices of his mother and daughter, he knew he couldn't leave things unsaid. Turning around, he noted the concerned looks of his mother and, unsurprisingly, the almost furious anger coming from his daughter. Figuring this would be a draining conversation, Alex gestured to the open living room with resignation.

"I can only guess that Kate was pretty mad. I mean, who can blame her? She was dating the very man she was looking for as the prime suspect in her case."

"But Dad, you are NOT a suspect—barely even a person of interest!"

"Alexis is right, Alexander. And I have to agree with her. What Katherine did was unnecessary."

Alex didn't know how to respond to his mother and daughter. A part of him wanted to be angry right there with them, but he knew that wouldn't get them anywhere. His mother was right—what Kate did was unnecessary—but it was her job. Sure, she could have gone about it with a little more tact, but put in her position, would he have done any differently?

Alex had spent the whole car ride home turning the events of the past few hours over and over in his head. And the conclusion he came up with was that this whole thing was simply a very unfortunate series of events. A part of him almost wished he had never run into Kate, never asked her out, never felt so very inclined towards her—_no, he would not say he was falling in l-o-v-e with her_. It was much too soon to think like that, but he did very much like her.

_Well, that's over now_. No, he wasn't destined for a great love—didn't his failed marriage prove that? At least he got Alexis out of his previous relationship. The only thing he got out of this one was probably a broken heart. And the worst part was, he couldn't even bring himself to fully hate Kate. In all honestly, he only felt more and more sorry for himself for letting it get this bad. The only thing he could be mad at now was how Kate put such a sad expression on his daughter's face through her actions. He could accept everything she did to him and the fact that their relationship was most likely over, but what she did to his daughter? That anger and hurt, how much his daughter was starting to admire her as a mature adult role model? Yeah, he couldn't let it go so easily when Kate went and disappointed his daughter like all the other women in their lives.

"I know, honey, I know," Alex soothed, as he pulled his daughter into a tight embrace. "I know."

Everyone was silent for a moment, just letting the weight of the day settle in around them. There was still so much to say and discuss—What does this mean, now that his secret is out? How will this affect them as a family? How will this affect Alex as a professor? There were just too many questions for this single moment and at present, Alex was happy to simply take a breather and enjoy the comfort of his daughter's arms wrapped around his own.

"Dad, what happens now?"

"I—"

Before Alex could even try to finish his sentence with some empty promise that it'll all be okay or that everything will work out in the end, the home phone rang out loud and clear, breaking the still air around them. Alex made a move to get up but his mother gave him a soft look, halting his attempt.

"It's okay, Alexander, I have this. You sit there with Alexis," stated Martha, as she wheeled herself into the kitchen where the phone sat against the counter.

"Really, Mother, you shouldn't have to push yourself. I can get it."

"No, it's alright really. You stay there. Let me do this, at least," insisted Martha, already reaching for the phone. "Hello? Rodgers residence."

At his mother's stipulation, Alex settled back into the cushions and pulled his daughter tighter against him. Alexis was just about to lay her head against his shoulder when he heard his mother wheel herself back over to their area and gave him an apologetic look before handing him the phone.

"It's Gina. She needs to speak with you."

The look his mother gave him let Alex know that this was a conversation he should probably take in his office. Glancing down at his daughter, he silently mouthed his apology before he took the phone and walked off to his office. Giving Alexis one last glance as he closed his door, he could see her eyes glazed over with pain—for him and his situation. A child should never have to feel pity or pain for his or her parent; Alex should never have given his daughter any cause to worry.

Dejectedly, he soundly closed his door, because really, at this point, can the day get any worse? Whatever Gina had to say to him, no matter how much she was going to yell at him for ruining his cover, it couldn't be any worse than the look in his daughter's eyes.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Alexander Rodgers, why haven't you picked up your phone?!" shrieked Gina Cowell into the mouthpiece of her office landline. "I have been calling your cell non-stop since I heard from the police this afternoon; that was hours ago!"

The minute her assistant told her there was some NYPD detective calling for her, Gina knew; it could not end well. And she hadn't left the office since, trying as she might to keep Alex's name safe. But even with the top lawyers they've hired from Pearson Specter though, she couldn't get them to work their magic around the case and warrant. So she did the next best thing—try to call and warn Alex ahead of time. But that damn infuriating man; he never picked up his phone! And the next thing she knew, the 6 o'clock news had clips of him exiting the 12th precinct with his mother and daughter in tow. At least Harvey, his lawyer, was there with him, so that meant Alex had some wits about him still, to call his attorney, but would it kill him to drop a message by her too?

"Dammit, Alex, I've been worried sick! What the hell happened?!"

"I—I don't know. I guess the detectives figured out I was Richard Castle and called me in for questioning."

"No shit, Sherlock. I've figured as much. I mean, how did that lead to the press getting wind that you _are_ Richard Castle as well?"

It didn't escape her notice that Alex referred to his nom de plume in the past tense. She didn't know what would come from this, if Alex would give up writing because his identity is now exposed, but that would have to be a conversation for another day. Right now, she needed to focus on his well-being and possibly, their retaliation to this police fiasco.

"I don't know how the press got a hold of that information, Gina. Isn't that your job? To research the leak?" replied the despondent voice on the other end.

"No, Alex, my job is to protect your name—both of your names—and right now, those two are being scrutinized by the media. We need to work on containing this and if it turns out the leak came from the police, we need to get our lawyers to work on some sort of lawsuit. This was bad faith, what they did, and it will not be tolerated."

"Gina—"

"Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this. I'm gonna go call up Harvey right now and see if we can work something out. This will be over before you know it," Gina reassured as best as she could before softly adding, "I'm glad you're okay."

The other end was silent for a moment before she heard a quiet "thank you" in return. Before the conversation could take a turn for the awkward, Gina promptly ended the call and settled back in her seat, finally letting go some of the tension that's been building all afternoon.

She'd been on edge ever since she got the call from the NYPD, and until she was able to get in touch with Alex, that persistent worry did not go away. As troublesome as that man could be to work with, he was a stand-up guy and somewhere along the way, Gina found that she wouldn't deny it if someone asked might she wish for a little more than the agent-client relationship they have. But for the most part, Alex has always been her writer first, and whatever faint interest she may have in him for something more personal, she valued their working relationship a great deal more and cared for him deeply in a professional sense. So if that meant staying late tonight, and calling up their lawyers to get him out of this bind, Gina would not hesitate or think otherwise.

So without further ado, Gina promptly steeled herself in for a long night as she picked up her receiver and made another call.

"Hey, Donna? Patch me through to Harvey. We need to talk about Richard Castle."

* * *

Kate stood in the shadows of the precinct walls and watched as Alex pulled his daughter in for a tight hug before turning to his mother for a comforting smile. It was such a small family, but a strong one, each always there to support one another. And Kate? Well, she would just be a thorn in their side at this point.

After she secured Alex's alibi and he signed off on all the paperwork, she had Ryan go in and release him. She already got what she could from him-which was more than she expected, what with the new Tisdale angle. _Though that could just be him trying to alleviate suspicion_. But after an interrogation like that, and not to mention his seemingly solid alibi for the night of the murder, she doesn't feel like he's trying to be anything other than what he's always been. _Whatever that is_. But regardless, no matter how she felt about him now after that little questioning episode, she couldn't face him again.

So she let him go, and let his family come fetch him, all the while remaining in the background. Everything happened so fast in the last few hours, she didn't know what to think. Somehow, Alex went from being the man she was seeing, romantically, to the famous Richard Castle, to murder suspect/person of interest, and then back to just Alexander Rodgers but also Richard Castle? And all that happened in less than half a day. It was a lot to process, and Kate was still trying to work through what exactly happened in that interrogation room.

"Beckett. A word?" sounded the voice of her captain.

With some reluctance, Kate turned from her silent corner to the captain calling her from the door of his office. Considering how Captain Montgomery always respected her work, granting her the independence few others received, he must be calling to check in on her. He could be such a father figure sometimes.

"Sir?"

"Detective. Can you close the door?"

She acquiesced to his command but was now more wary of the situation. _This must be serious_. He normally wasn't this formal with her.

"Beckett, are you aware that there is a sea of reporters outside our precinct steps?"

"Sir?" she repeated. She didn't know what he was trying to get at-not why there would be a 'sea of reporters' outside, nor what that had to do with her.

"The press somehow got wind that that man you just had in your interrogation room is none other than the famed Richard Castle."

"I still don't—"

"Detective, you better be damn sure of what you're doing and whether it was worth it. Alexander Rodgers can very well charge us with a civil lawsuit for public disclosure of private facts if this Richard Castle leak came from our precinct!"

The minute Montgomery said that, all the dots immediately connected in Kate's head. _What have I done? _She was too wrapped up in her hurt to consider her actions. She was used to always walking into a scene and bluntly stating the facts. So far, that has always worked to her advantage, to catch the suspect off guard with the pressure of prying peers forcing them to comply. But was she wrong in doing what she did this time? She honestly would've have done the same thing if it was any other suspect, but did she just take it too far?

"Beckett, I need to get on the line with the higher ups to sort out this mess but if it all comes to a head, there's only so much I can do before it's your badge on the line. I just want to give you this heads up so you understand. Beckett, you're dismissed."

Dismissed. Kate walked out of that office feeling _dismissed_ in more ways than one—her love life, her personal life, her professional life, and if everything goes according to this spectacular plan the universe seemed to have for her, her career as well.


End file.
